Rough Seas
by MySlashyFriend
Summary: Edward begins his new career as a seaman, only to discover a side of him he never knew existed. Originally written as a one-shot for the Tattward Contest. Chapter 3 is for cosmo9 and ArcadianMaggie. AU/AH, OOC, SLASH, Lemons.
1. Chapter 1

**Tattward & Inkella One-Shot Contest**

**Title: Rough Seas**

**Your pen name: MySlashyFriend**

**Characters: Edward and Jasper**

**Disclaimer: ****SMeyer owns all things Twilight, and would probably be a little disturbed by what her characters are getting up to in the AH universe.**

**To see other entries in the Tattward & Inkella Contest, please visit the C2 page:  
**www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/Tattward_and_Inkella_Contest/71624/

**A/N: This is my first ever slash piece and I feel like I'm really putting myself out there with this. Shout-outs to Jezzeria and Einfach Mich for telling me to keep going (even when they didn't know what they were encouraging!). Also, to n7of9 for being wonderful and beta-ing this for me. She is super cool.**

* * *

We'd left Jersey the previous day and I was still learning my way around the ship. Jasper had brought me down to the mess for some tattooing ritual they had. He was supposed to show me the ropes, both work and leisure related. This was purportedly leisure related.

He was perched on a stool and Emmett leaned over him, carefully tracing the design on his bicep. Jasper was getting his third swallow—15,000 miles at sea. He was so passive about the whole thing, I was amazed. I mean, he was about to get a fucking tattoo, on a moving ship, and was not worried at all.

"We get one after almost every port," Jasper was telling me. "We're shit busy while we're docked, so it's not until we get underway again, but it helps to mark the passage and it gives us something to do." He had his shirt off and it would've revealed to me just how much time he had spent at sea, had I not already known.

As I watched Emmett tracing the design, I started to understand how Jasper could be so unfazed by the whole process. Emmett's hand was perfectly steady, never making an error. His body automatically corrected for the slight sway of the ship, almost as if he were gimballed to the walls. I started to feel less anxious about him using a needle on me.

"What's the first tattoo I'd have to get?" I asked, starting to thaw to the idea.

Emmett squinted as he added in the detail of the bird's wings. "It depends on what you want. Some of the boys like the bad-boy tatts, skulls and shit. Jasper here is a traditionalist, always with the sailor symbolism." He pulled back the sheeting and revealed the perfect replica of the swallow outline he now held in his hand. "Others wuss out and just get a single chain link after each port. They're small, so it's fast—less pain, and you can fit anywhere up to thirty links depending on the size of the arm. That'll get ya through 'bout nine months on a container."

I had a feeling skulls and crosses would look a bit out of place on my body. Jasper was similar in build to me and the marine tattoos didn't look so bad on him. It was either that or the chain.

"What's the first sailor tattoo?"

Jasper started to turn to answer me but stopped when Emmett flicked his ear to remind him to stay still. Instead, Emmett answered me as he added the finishing touches.

"Well, again, it depends. You can get something a bit more artistic, like a mermaid, or you can get something meaningful, like a compass or star—they're meant to guide a sailor home." He fired up the needle and I listened to the ominous buzzing but avoided watching it with my eyes.

Jasper barely winced as Emmett went to work on him and I guessed he was used to the sensation now. He was covered in tattoos: a dragon stretched out across his back, two other swallows in flight on his left bicep, rope around his ankle, an anchor under the swallow Emmett was creating, several stars scattered around his back, and a sea turtle on his hip. He also had a chain running around his arm that revealed he hadn't always been so comfortable with the needle.

I considered my options. A star wouldn't be so bad. It would be small enough that I could hide it or get it removed if I changed my mind later, and it would look less stupid than a single piece of chain on my arm.

"I think I'd have to start off with something small, like a star," I decided, out loud.

"Good choice," Jasper added, keeping his body still, his voice revealing no sign of the pain he must be feeling.

"If you stick with the nautical, you'll almost have as many as Jasper here by the time we're through. You can get your compass after Norfolk, then your rope after Charleston. Once we cross the Atlantic, you'll have earned your anchor—we can do that after Port Said," Emmett continued to mutter away as he tattooed Jasper's arm.

I looked over Emmett and for the first time noticed how few tattoos he had. "Do you get a tatt after every port?" I interrupted him. It sure didn't look like he did.

He snorted at my question before answering, "I get one after each contract—when I get the shore time. There's no way I'd let any of these fuckers ink me." I nodded in understanding, thinking I probably wouldn't either.

I continued to ponder whether or not I should go ahead with it when it struck me just how many ports we would be visiting. If they were serious about getting one each time, I was gonna have to get a chain just so I'd still have skin visible. "So, when we get to cross the Pacific, after Port Said, I should have at least another... nine, is that right?" I asked, struggling to comprehend.

"Nah, that's not quite how it works," Jasper answered. "You finish China, you get the dragon." He gestured to his own back. "It's five ports in less than a week—"

"There's no time for getting inked," Emmett cut him off. "Stay still, damn it," he gruffly barked at Jasper before continuing. "You barely have time to sleep during the China leg, especially you lot working the cranes. Once we get out into the Pacific we have time for this again."

So that left just another four tattoos I'd have to get if I went along with this. I contemplated everything they'd said and considered what Bella would likely think. I could argue they were symbolic, appealing to her creative side. That would be bound to piss her off less than if she thought I was getting them to be one of the 'boys.' _Maybe I do want to piss her off, though?_ It was her fault I was out here.

Bella insisted on pursuing her writing—all else be damned. Don't mind the fact I wanted to be a musician, or that I kept up my shitty construction job to pay my way until I got signed. She'd argued that while she was working, she wasn't able to write. When I countered that my job wasn't enough to support us both, she conveniently found the ad for this position, knowing that I'd be able to get it because I was licensed with cranes. The only other qualification I needed was a z-card. Forty five dollars and one weekend of coursework got me that. So now I was employed as an Ordinary Seaman aboard the CMV Maria on a six-month stint, while she stayed at home and wrote. It felt like I hadn't really had a choice in any of this.

But I had a choice now.

"Okay." I raised my eyes to meet Emmett's. "I'm in," I said, and he answered me with his nod of approval.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

We'd been at sea for two months and I had four tattoos to show for it. I got the star on my back first, right shoulder blade. The compass was on my left tricep, an anchor on my right, and I got the rope wrapping around my ankle, same as Jasper's. Now we were making our way through the Suez and I was thinking about what I'd get after Jiddah. Jasper had talked about getting a constellation on his left pec. I'd probably just get that, too.

It was evening time and we'd both retired to our bunks for the night. Our cabin was small—only about six feet across. The bunks took up most of the space and were recessed into the wall. The only other furniture was a built-in set of drawers. Needless to say, when you were in your cabin, you were in your bed.

I'd been reading through some of Bella's manuscript that she sent to the last port for me. It was good, I'd give her that, but reading it brought back my feelings of jealousy. She was able to follow her dreams and seeing as I wasn't, everything I read was tinged with bitterness.

I heard Jasper groaning and knew he was torturing himself by reading Juggs again.

"I'm so fucking horny. I'm so fucking sick of being fucking horny." He rolled over in the top bunk and I heard him slap down the magazine. "Edward, take a walk, man. This may get messy." I heard him unzip and the sound of him taking his pants off, followed by his audible relief at finally having something wrapped around his cock.

I was a bit pissed he didn't really give me a chance to leave first. He knew I had no clothes on and to leave now would involve copping an eyeful of him as I got dressed. So instead, I tried to tune out his grunts and moans by focusing on Bella's work. I found the main character to be a bit of a pussy, always chasing after the female—something I was pretty sure didn't happen in real life. This scene in particular was pretty steamy though. The guy was admiring his lover over breakfast, contemplating what they'd done the night before. Jasper groaned loudly and I lost my place.

_Crap._

Now _I_ was hard. Reading about two people having sex was not what I needed while Jasper whacked off above me. I slipped my hand under the sheets and rubbed it up against my dick, wondering if I could bring myself to do it.

_Fuck it._

I figured if Jasper was rude enough to jerk off with me right here, I could be too. I rubbed my hand up and down my dick roughly, feeling how much I needed to let loose. I could definitely do this. Jasper was picking up his pace and the bunk was starting to vibrate. I listened to him and unwittingly imagined what he looked like up there. It made me even harder as I heard him moan again.

I spat on my fingers and used it to wet my cock, then sighed as I spread it around. My hand slipped easily over the head and I squeezed a little more there. It'd been a couple of days since I last jerked off and I was aching for release, so I didn't waste any time before beginning to pump roughly. I felt the familiar tightening inside as my body reacted to the stimulation. My breathing got heavier and more strained as I kept trying to push myself to climax. I was getting closer with each stroke, but nothing was tipping me over the edge. Then I heard Jazz's pleasured groan above me and my whole body tensed as I came all over my hand and chest.

I lay there panting heavily but not moving. What just happened was a little weird, but what was weirder for me was that I didn't feel uncomfortable. It wasn't the first time I'd listened to Jazz jerk off, but it _was_ the first time I did it around him...well, while he was awake anyway.

"Feeling better?" Jazz muttered, his voice carrying his amusement. He obviously wasn't freaked out so I started to relax a little. Maybe this was totally normal?

"That was entirely too fucking messy," I jokingly groaned as I stood to get something to clean myself off with. Opening a drawer, I pulled out an undershirt and used it to wipe the cum off my hand and chest, then I threw it into the corner to deal with in the morning.

As I turned to walk back toward the bed I saw Jazz, laying on his side with a smug look on his face, and realized he'd been watching me.

"That was some load," he said, a smirk spread across his face. He sat up and lofted off the bed, then slapped me lightly on the ass as he brushed past. He bent down and retrieved the shirt I'd discarded and used it to wipe up his own cum. I watched him too, but wasn't disgusted with what I saw. The feeling I had as he added his release to mine was the same kind of pride I felt whenever I watched Bella swallow.

Jasper finished cleaning up and threw the shirt back down where I'd left it. As he straightened up, I let myself appreciate him physically. The marine tattoos that littered his body made him look as masculine as I knew him to be.

He climbed back up onto his bunk and chuckled. "You need to do that more often, Eddie."

"Don't fucking call me Eddie," I snapped, and crawled into my own bed. He was probably right.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

After another month, Jasper and I had settled into a routine, of sorts. It had kind of become our thing—nightly jerk-off sessions—and boy, did we go through some lube. My dick seemed to be developing an association problem though, because I was starting to get hard whenever Jasper walked into the room at night. At times, I found it a little disturbing, but it didn't exactly feel 'wrong.'

For the most part, Jasper seemed really cool with it all. Occasionally, he felt the need to up his macho and would make some comments—mostly about tits and how much he missed them. Other times he would talk about women he missed fucking. Most of the time, I just ignored it, knowing it was more about making himself feel more comfortable than anything else. But then one night, he was just being a fucking smartass.

It was during one of our 'sessions.' He had his copy of "Juggs" out, as usual, but started calling one of the girls "Bella" and I just snapped. I yanked him off his bunk and had him pushed up against the wall with my hands so fast, he didn't have time to react.

I grabbed his cock menacingly. "If you ever talk about Bella that way again, I will tear your fucking dick off!" It was an unspoken rule that we never talked about Bella— at all. And if this was his idea of a joke, I was not impressed. I was fucking mad.

I was so fucking mad, I didn't realize I was holding Jasper's erect cock in my hand.

I was so fucking mad, I didn't even think about my own cock sticking out at full mast in front of me.

Not until it brushed up against his thigh.

And when that happened, it felt so good, I started to forget about being so fucking mad. I had an overwhelming need to touch him and have him touch me. It was like I was frozen in time though, unable to move either closer or further away. As I furrowed my brow and clenched my jaw, I knew the inner turmoil would be clear on my face. I didn't think I could hide the way it affected me.

I'd looked Jasper straight in the eye then, showing him the conflict I was having. But he didn't look scared or freaked out, he just glared straight back at me. I realized his expression mirrored mine.

"Do it," is all he said—and all it took.

I pressed my naked body flush up against him and exhaled with relief. My cock met his and I pushed us closer together. It had been so long since I'd had anyone else touch me, I was shaking a little with how good it felt.

Jazz was the first one to use his hands, well... in _that_ way. He reached behind me and grabbed my ass, pulling me in tighter. Neither of us knew what to do next so we just stayed that way for a moment. I buried my face in his neck and bit him lightly to stop myself from using lips and tongue. I wanted him to touch my cock so bad, I did what I had to.

I moved my hand up and down his length and felt just how hard he was. He let out a strained groan and I could tell he was struggling with what we were doing just as much as I was. He pressed his face into my hair and exhaled heavily when I started stroking him. I needed him to do it too, but there was no way I could ask.

He stuttered a few more short breaths into my hair and then finally reached down and took my cock in his hand. I fucking moaned and had to use my teeth again to restrain myself.

Then we just went at it—each of us pumping and breathing heavily. We both started to break out in a sweat and our chests were moist against each other where they touched—our Carina constellations almost resembling reflections. When our dicks or hands grazed each other slightly, it felt amazing. It was the kind of thing I would never have imagined would be a turn on, it was so distinctly male, but every time his dick or his hand swiped mine, my arousal increased.

I don't know how long we stood there jerking each other off. Jasper came first and I was a little shocked when his warm cum hit my stomach. His hand had stopped moving and it gave me the unstimulated window to think about what I was doing. My brain started screaming that it was wrong. Jazz was still moaning lightly with each breath as he slumped against me and I started to push him off, but he grabbed me from behind and pulled me closer until I was pressed against him again. The cum on my stomach spread between us and Jasper slid a little against it. Then he grabbed my semi and helped me to not think about it as he got me hard again.

I managed to block everything else out and concentrated on how it felt. Jasper's hand was stronger than Bella's, and larger, so it covered more and squeezed me tighter. He had a much better idea of what he was doing too. It was the best of both worlds, a hand-job as good as I could give myself, touching all the right spots, adding just the right amount of pressure, and it was someone else's hand, so everything I felt was through my cock.

I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to watch as Jasper got me off. He stroked harder and got me to spread my legs a little and then he pulled on my balls and pressed up behind them. My breathing got heavier and faster and I started to move my hips. He kept pace and I listened to his own breathing pick up. Having Jasper panting in front of me made everything a lot more stimulating. It was more like when we were in our own beds and I was listening to him above me.

Those thoughts were all I needed and I clenched. Jasper pressed harder into my perineum and I came all over his stomach this time. I leant forward against him and finally opened my eyes. Looking down I saw the mess I'd made and chuckled softly as I thought, _payback._ Jasper had also been surveying the damage but at the sound of my voice he looked up into my eyes. His face was all strained, like he was still frustrated. I glanced down and saw he was hard—again.

We both came twice that night, and after Jasper gave me the second mind-blowing hand-job, I stopped trying not to kiss him. It felt unnatural to have someone touch you that way and yet not use your lips to show them how good it felt, so I pressed mine against his, softly and briefly, before we each climbed into our own beds.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

You'd think jerking off your best friend would be something you would keep to yourself, and we did. After that first night, I wasn't sure if Jazz would want to keep doing it. I sure as hell did, but he barely looked at me the next day, or the day after that. He came around eventually, always joking and shit to try and make things _normal_. It was another week before we 'helped' each other again, but after that it became just another thing we did.

That was what I liked so much about Jazz—he could be so easy going. I could still tell he was struggling though. The more time we spent together, the more he started to man-up, talking about boobs and pussy. I had the opposite happen to me; I could barely think about them now. They just reminded me of Bella—a topic I was trying to avoid.

After every port, Jasper was getting mermaids with huge tits tattooed on his body. He had Emmett place one below the dragon and then later, back in our cabin, he joked that it was for me so I had something to check out other than his ass. There was no way I would be returning that favor.

For the first time, I started to deviate from the sailor tatts. I didn't want mermaids or more stars—I wanted something more meaningful. So I started to delve into Celtic symbols and after we left Karachi, I added a triskele of returning loops to my lower back as a symbol for inner strength. I thought it was fitting given what was happening in my life.

When we finished the China route there was a celebratory vibe on the ship. We'd worked our butts off and had very little uninterrupted sleep over the past week, but everyone was keen to socialise. The Captain let those of us not on duty have a couple of beers, not enough to get drunk, but enough to loosen us up. We talked about how I was getting my dragon and one of the other crew decided they'd get one too. It was fun. Eventually though, the lack of sleep and the sedative quality of the beer kicked in, and one-by-one, everyone retired to their cabins.

Jasper and I approached ours and I tried not to make it obvious how much I was hoping we'd fool around. I was horny, as usual, but I was also worried my back would be too sore over the next few days to enjoy any sessions we could have. Not wanting to push Jazz, I waited until we were safely hidden in our room before I turned to him and started to feel him up. It was my secret hope he'd let me take things a little further tonight.

He didn't shrug me off like he sometimes did, so I continued to touch him and started to kiss his neck. Over the weeks, I'd found it was better if I eased Jazz into everything, including mouth kisses. I let my hands roam down to his fly and I unzipped it slowly, leaving him time to back out if he wanted to. His response was to start trailing his owns hands over my body, his means of telling me it was okay. The beer must have relaxed his inhibitions a bit because we were moving faster than normal. I decided to take advantage of that to try something new.

I kept kissing him down his neck, then lifted his shirt so I could taste his stomach and chest. He clenched noticeably and I assumed it was because he realized where I was taking my mouth. I yanked his jeans down and warmed him with my breath, which he must have enjoyed, 'cause he didn't stop me.

Again, I avoided eye contact as it just made it easier for him. Jazz was always clear on how he felt about our relationship—for him it was getting off. I had been less forthcoming about my own feelings and how strong they were becoming. He meant more to me now than anyone else I'd ever been with, and I think he sensed that. I kissed the head of his cock, testing the waters, and heard him exhale sharply in response. The next time my lips met his cock, I sucked him in.

"Fuck," he exclaimed, quietly. I knew that feeling. I used my lips and tongue and hands to make him feel as good as I could. He jerked and rocked against me, hissing when I grazed him with my teeth, groaning when I licked the base of his head extra hard. I could feel he was getting close to climaxing, but taking my mouth off him just wasn't an option. If I was going to give him the best blowjob he'd ever had, I had to swallow.

That resolved, I went about fulfilling his every want and less than a minute later he came in my mouth, his body quivering while he stroked my hair with one hand. I let him slide slowly out of my mouth and placed gentle kisses around the area before chancing a look at his face.

He was blissed-out and completely relaxed, his head tilted back against the wall and his eyes closed. I started to slowly rise up and Jasper instantly tensed, his eyes opening as he glanced at me briefly. I saw the wide-eyes for what they were—scared.

"I don't think I can," he mumbled.

"I never expected you would," I responded, calmly, running my hand across the skin under his shirt, tracing the lines I knew were there.

He looked back into my eyes and, without words, conveyed his understanding. He reached forward and grabbed onto me as I nuzzled into his neck.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

"What do you mean you're getting off?" I asked him angrily. Jasper had lived on this ship for over two years. If there was one thing I was certain of, it was that he would be on it long after I was gone.

"I just need to get back to land, you know? I wanna have a normal job, meet someone, all that conventional shit." He shrugged as if he was saying nothing of consequence, but those words burned me.

It was night time and we were in our bunks, reading to pass the hours before sleep. Jasper had started with some small talk before dropping the bomb that he was leaving... and leaving me. We were less than two weeks away from the States which meant that was all the time we had left together. And that made me mad.

Jasper had never led me to believe we had a relationship outside of being friends, but what he was saying made me feel like I was the reason he was leaving.

"You don't have to leave the fucking ship to avoid me, Jazz. Just tell me if you don't want to do this anymore." I tried to not let the hurt show in my voice but failed.

"It's not that." He exhaled loudly, and I heard him sitting up in bed. "I never wanted to do this forever—the ship thing. Now just seems like a good time to call it a day. Once we hit the West Coast, I'll be able to find my way home. And to tell you the truth, I don't think I could handle another circuit. All I wanna do is sit in a bar, drink cold beer from the tap, play pool without a lean on the fucking table, touch tits. It's been too long, for me," he added almost as an afterthought.

I stayed where I was, unable to speak without taking my insecurities out on him. After a couple of minutes, Jasper's legs appeared over the side of his bunk and his body followed until he was standing next to me, staring down, obviously annoyed.

"Why are you being all pissy about this?" he yelled.

"I'm not being pissy. I'm just...I'm just, fucking...I don't know. I don't want you to leave," I admitted and then squeezed my eyes shut so I didn't have to see his response.

Instead I felt it.

He pressed his lips against mine and kissed me softly, tenderly. When he pulled away I wanted to see him, so I peeked. He had his cocky smile on his face, all smug and amused. "You're such a fucking girl," he said, then leant in and kissed me again.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

This was it. The next morning we would be docking and Jasper would leave. He was still hanging out in the mess with some of the other crew, having the equivalent of a farewell. I was hiding in our cabin, faking a migraine to avoid looking pathetic in front of everyone. No one knew just how close Jasper and I were, but one look at my face right now and they would.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, my internal monologue started up and led me through all the conceivable scenarios for how the next day would play out. Personally, I hoped Jasper would change his mind at the last minute, turn around and get back on board. We'd get matching tattoos or some shit and things would carry on the same way they had been.

Then there was the other scenario, the one that was really keeping me awake. Jasper would reach the end of the gangway, turn, and call me a fucking fag in front of everyone, before laughing at how stupid I was for falling for him when he was so obviously unavailable.

After tossing for hours, I finally heard the sound I was subconsciously waiting for. The cabin door swung open and Jasper stumbled in. He smelled faintly of beer, but I knew he wouldn't be drunk.

He closed the door and stayed where he was, towering over my bunk in the small space.

"Edward, you awake?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Yeah," I replied, slowly pulled myself up into a sitting position and planting my feet on the floor. Jasper made to sit next to me, so I shuffled over a bit to make room. He rested his head in his hands without saying anything for a minute, while I just sat there, waiting. He looked... conflicted.

He dragged his fingers through his blond hair then dropped them suddenly into his lap.

"You know how I feel about you, right? This is not a gay thing for me, it's just... a thing." He hadn't looked me in the eye and was instead staring at his shoes. "I need to know what it is to you," he added, quickly. His head started turning toward mine, so I looked at the door, not wanting him to see my face. He was about to find out exactly where I stood.

"It's... more to me," I began, then ploughed on before I lost my nerve. "Nothing has ever felt this right." I moved my eyes to my bare feet. "And now you're leaving and it feels like my fucking heart is breaking."

He didn't reply for a while and I was left with my words swirling around my head, mocking me for being too forward. Just before I was about to make a feeble attempt to laugh off what I'd said, he leaned in and kissed me.

Kissing Jasper was the next best thing to loving him. It was the only way I could communicate how I felt without worrying about his response. And when he was kissing me, it made it easier to imagine he loved me too.

There were different ways he kissed as well: his tender goodnights, his teasing tempters, his slow apologies, and the frantic, desperate ones that told me what he wanted. These were the kisses I was getting now.

He stood up and pulled me with him, the small single bunks being too impractical for two men of our size. I kept kissing and let my hands wander all over him, across his back, under his shirt, around his ass. I knew what I wanted to do with him but I wasn't sure how he'd feel about it, so I was too scared to ask. _If only we'd had more time_.

Jasper's own hands trailed down over my ass and he squeezed it, making me squirm a bit. And then I heard his breathy voice in my ear.

"If you want me to, I'll do it," he whispered.

I pulled away and stared at him. He looked determined, his eyes serious with not a hint of fear, but the strong set of his face was not enough to mask what I knew his thoughts were. He would be doing this for me. For him, this sacrifice would be too much, and I hesitated, not able to decide if I wanted to accept it. But if I was losing him anyway, would it be so bad to accept this from him before he left?

I knew I was going to.

I kissed him again, deeper this time. When I pulled away I went straight for his neck, whispering into his ear, "I need you to do it."

He swallowed, and again, I hesitated. But then Jazz climbed his wall, or put it up, or whatever the fuck he did to be able to be with me, and he started kissing me again.

"Turn around," he whispered against my cheek. I kept kissing him while I undid my pants and kicked them off. I looked into his eyes one last time before I did as he asked and turned around, still trying to hold him from behind. I was relieved he didn't look sad, or shut off, or anything I was afraid of. He looked like he wanted to do it, too.

He gently bent me over so I was facing the wall and ran his hands smoothly up and down my back.

"I fucking love this one," he mumbled as pressed his lips to the Celtic design on my lower back. Maybe Jasper was more philosophical than I had given him credit for?

He trailed his hand down over my ass and reached in between my legs, fondling my balls and the base of my dick. It was the best feeling in the world being stroked like that and I groaned from it.

He left me for just a moment to grab the lube out of the drawer, then returned to my butt and started easing a finger in. He was gentle as he stretched me with one, then two fingers. I couldn't stop my eyes rolling back with the pleasure and pain. It wasn't the first time Jazz had used his fingers on me and I knew the feeling only got better.

I gave up trying to physically touch him and instead grabbed my own dick. We moved in tandem for a while, but then paused when I felt him remove his hand, only to feel his wet, lubed dick in its place.

He pushed in just the smallest bit and I fucking gasped. It was a lot bigger than his fingers and it stung. When he went to push further, I had to stop him.

"Wait," I panted, my brow furrowed as I calmed down. "Just...wait."

I tried to relax, and my as my body adjusted to him being there, I was able to. He took it slower then, pushing in the smallest amount, waiting until I stopped tensing, and then pushed in a bit more. It took us a little while but eventually he was completely inside me.

For me, once the pain subsided, it was better than I imagined. For Jasper, although I couldn't see his face, his sounds were of a man that had to restrain himself. When I was ready, he went slow, pushing in and out, using his hands to pull me into his hips and grunting with each thrust.

I braced myself against the wall and just felt him. He was all around me, his body inside mine, his noises in my ears, his scent in the air. My dick fucking pulsated for him, harder than it had ever been in my life. I felt his hands around my hips, his sweat on my skin, and his breath on my shoulder as he started to pant louder.

I made him slow down, not wanting it to be over so fast, and he did, touching me more sensually and less aggressively. I reached back and managed to rub his balls for him and he groaned at the increased pleasure. Then I moved my hand back to myself and started jerking off in time with his thrusts.

Once he felt me doing that, he started losing himself in my body. He was groaning out load and I was grunting along with him, unable to restrain my voice. I lost all control as I started reaching my climax. All my other senses were dulled except those that felt and heard and smelt Jasper and me, together. When I came it was without any coherent thought, everything spilling out of me and all over the wall. I felt Jasper coming inside me and it prolonged my own orgasm. I must have come for half a minute, my cum seeping out of me with every convulsion of my body. Jasper leaned against my back and I felt him kiss the dragon. He made to move but I reached behind and grabbed his hand, wrapping it around my waist, wanting him to embrace me before he left.

It may only have lasted a minute, but that was the closest I had ever felt to another person in my life.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The next morning, I helped Jazz pack his clothes and tried to appear happy for him, but I was numb. There was no sadness, no fear, just... nothing. My defensive walls were up. I smiled at him as we worked, and responded to his casual touches the way I used to, though they weren't stirring me as they had before. When he kissed me goodbye in the privacy of our cabin, I started to feel again. Because it was a slow apology kiss, which told me he was running from me, and that made me mad. I didn't show it though, and as the crew farewelled him out on deck, I grinned and slapped him on the back the same as they did, keeping my feelings to myself.

He strolled down the gangway and waved to us all from the wharf. I didn't dare watch him until he was out of sight—that would have been too obvious—so I left and instead went to our cabin to sulk.

That he was running from me made me wonder if there ever could have been more between us. Was he just scared? Or was it me he didn't like? I almost slapped myself at that last thought. _Fucking girl_.

Once I let the pain in, there was no stopping it. I felt incomplete and empty knowing I'd never have him again. I needed something, anything to drown it out. And then it occurred to me—the one thing I could do on the ship that could take my mind off Jazz.

I left my cabin and made my way to the galley. Emmett glanced up from over the stove as soon I entered, nothing escaping his notice. He didn't look at all surprised to see me there.

"What can I help you with, Edward?" he muttered, stirring whatever he was cooking in the large metal pot.

"Can you give me sleeves?" I asked. It was a big undertaking and would take him hours if he'd do it—hours of distraction for me.

He narrowed his eyes and stared straight into mine. I got the feeling that Em knew exactly what Jasper was to me and the reason why I wanted him to paint my arms with pain.

"Is that really what you want?" he asked, and I was thankful he didn't question my motives. I gave a single nod in response and he returned it, silently understanding. "We can do it when we head back out then."

"Thanks, Emmett," I muttered. For a few moments I hovered in the doorway, entertaining the thought of talking to him about what had happened. In the end, I turned and walked away quickly, deciding not to say anything else. I made my way back to the cabin, climbed up into his bed, and counted down the minutes until Em could fix me.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

We were docked at Jersey, but I felt no satisfaction at all that I had successfully circled the globe. After dealing with customs, I made my way through the sea port terminal and found the taxi rank where there was one lonely cab waiting. The driver was leaning against the side of the vehicle, dragging on a cigarette. He turned and looked me over, his eyes lingering over my arms, judging me. I gave him a slight nod to reassure him I wasn't there to rough him up. It was all he needed to relax—I didn't really look like trouble.

I finally got to the cab and waited while the cabbie butted out his cigarette before opening the door to sit inside.

"Where am I taking you?" he asked.

I gave him Bella's address and realized I didn't even think of it as home anymore. He pulled out of the terminal and I closed my eyes, trying to avoid getting motion sickness. I hadn't yet regained my land-legs and getting into a car straight off the boat made my head spin. But thinking about that was the one way to guarantee I'd heave. As we drove through the city, I finally felt the storm of emotion receding as the clarity of being back where I started from washed over me. This was what I needed to do to feel whole again. I didn't need Jasper, nor any other man, or woman, to complete me. But I did need to stop pretending. I just hoped Bella would understand.

* * *

**A/N: For those of you that are interested, here's a little list of the significance of the tattoos.**

**Swallow: a tattoo of the bird, earned after a sailor logged 5,000 miles at sea.**

**Nautical star and compass: tattoos that were supposed to guide a sailor home.**

**Anchor: indicated a sailor had crossed the Atlantic Ocean.**

**Sea turtle: indicated a sailor had crossed the equator.**

**Dragon: showed a sailor had sailed into a port in China.**

**Mermaids: Often used to represent the women waiting for the sailors at home.**

**Carina constellation: a constellation in the southern sky. Its name is Latin for the keel of a ship**

**Sleeves: tattoos that cover the entire arm.**

**I mentioned a lot of ports in the story. If you're not sure where they are, Google will show you the way.**

**So... review? Please?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: There comes a point when you just have to fucking post.**

**Big thanks to Mopstyle, Allysue08, hexumhunnie311, and Darkira for the pre-reads/beta stuff.**

**The story continues in Jasper's POV. I've tried to follow a similar style, covering the big moments and skipping everything in between. Hopefully this provides a bit more resolution for you :)**

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

* * *

It's been five years since I've seen him. Five years since I've had to deal with feeling like _this. _A stray spotlight passes across his face and I know—I just know it's him. It's his jaw line, his bronze hair, and his pale skin. I was turning to leave before the strobe had a chance to confirm it.

Once I was outside the club, I made my way around the corner and slunk down against the wall while the shock kicked in.

Five years_. Five fucking years_. In that time I've racked up three more ex-girlfriends, seven trips to gay bars, had five blowjobs from strangers, and given one. Five years of guilt for dicking around my girlfriends and those strangers. I didn't even like those guys—I just wanted to feel that way, again.

And now what do I do? I'm sitting on the fucking sidewalk outside yet another bar and freaking out because he's inside. I wasn't looking for him, and in a way, I guess I hoped I'd never see him again. I don't want him to see me the way I am now—scared.

He looked a little different. His arms are covered in tatts, and there are other subtle differences that I can't quite pick. Maybe he's beefed up or his hair is longer, or maybe it's a lot of changes. He still looks like _him_ though.

The thought of _him_ scares me. He _knows_ me. He's the one that started all this shit—that made me feel this way. It's always been easy to blame him, and I have, in spades.

If it wasn't for him, I don't think I ever would've had to deal with this shit. I would've found some small fucking pixie to suck my cock every day and I would've been happy. Now, whenever some bitch goes down on me, all I can think about is how it isn't as good. They have pointy little tongues and "no swallow" stances. His tongue moulded to me and he didn't hesitate when I came in his mouth.

My dick stiffened at the memory and as usual, my mind reeled from my reaction. I can't help but fight it—it's the way I was raised. It's just not the way things are done. So long as I can like women, then that's who I should be with.

I've spent five years going over this bullshit. It didn't work out with that chick because she complained too much, or with that other chick because she was clingy. At the end of the day, even I had to admit that I just wasn't attracted to them enough. But acknowledging that and following through on the alternative are two very different things. The few times I have considered having a man for a partner, all the road blocks freak me out. My parents. My grandparents! The guys back home. It all seems too hard.

I know I'm not ready for this.

With that thought, I picked myself up out of the gutter and grabbed the next cab back to my apartment.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

After I woke up, I blearily dragged myself to the bathroom, wishing I was still in bed. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw a tired man staring back. I slept badly last night, well, more like I hardly slept. Scenarios kept running through my head about what could've happened if I'd just had to balls to approach him. Then when sleep finally did find me, it wasn't any more forgiving. Edward's a frequent visitor to my dreams, but last night was even more vivid. My subconscious is cruel to me like that.

I've moved around a lot over the last five years, trying to find someplace where I could fit in. Jersey was a pot-shot. Sure, I realised that he was from here, and I'm not saying that didn't influence my decision, but I never expected to see him—especially not at that bar last night. I mean, what about his girlfriend? Is he completely like _that_ now?

I couldn't get him out of my head. Last night, my thoughts were stuck on a constant mental loop of 'what ifs.' What if I had approached him? Would he have recognized me? Would he have tried anything with me? Would he hate me?

I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face. Like every morning, I use the freezing temperature to startle me out of those thoughts, the ones that plague me at night when I have no control over them.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

I spent the day keeping myself busy. To start with, I had a quick four hour shift on a fishing charter boat. She's a beautiful vessel—sixty feet of sleek fiberglass. Most of the cruise was spent hanging with the Captain in the bridge, chatting about the seaways so I could work on my local knowledge. I always felt more at home on the sea, and there's a certain camaraderie between sailors that you just don't find anywhere else. Edward and I shared it too.

_We were friends first—good friends. _

Maybe I just miss his friendship? Maybe that's why I can't stop thinking about him? If he's my friend then there's nothing wrong with me wanting to go and see him.

It'd be expected, right?

Once I decided on that, I hashed out a rough plan of going back to the club. I spent the rest of the cruise trying to concentrate on what the captain was saying, rather than thinking too much about what I would say to Edward.

There were a painful couple of hours that I wasn't able to fill with eating or zoning out watching TV; I was way too anxious for that shit. In fact, the only thing that made me feel any better was scotch. So, between finishing work and getting ready, I fretted over Glenfiddich. By the time I left the house, I had at least three under my belt and was feeling a lot better about things.

I caught a cab to Roman's at around 8pm. After the cabbie pulled up and I paid him through the window, he had the balls to eye me up. Despite being annoyed with his assumption that I'd touch him with a ten-foot fucking pole, it did reassure me that I looked all right. I ran my hands through my hair a few times before approaching the entrance. Slowly, I made my way past the beefy bouncer and into the club.

It was earlier tonight, so the light show hadn't started up yet and it wasn't jam-packed with writhing bodies. People were seated around tables and the music was loud, but not so loud you couldn't hear the barman ask for your order.

"Scotch, straight up," I told him. He winked at me in an obvious ploy to get a bigger tip. I ignored him and turned my back to the bar so I could look for the only man I was interested in tonight.

He wasn't there.

The barman placed my glass down with a heavy clunk so I turned back to pay. He'd been generous with the pour and as I glanced back up at him I reconsidered my earlier assumption that he was pretending to be interested in me. He bit down on his bottom lip and that was flirting if I ever saw it. I knocked back my scotch and asked for another.

Turning back to face the room, I felt nothing but disappointment. Edward not being here wasn't a scenario I'd considered, so I wasn't prepared for the letdown. The adrenaline that had coursed through my body all evening was petering out and leaving me feeling stupid and embarrassed. I figured I'd have a couple of drinks and just leave.

For the next hour I stayed at the bar and occasionally made small talk to the barman. As the scotch made its way into my system, my mood picked up. The light show had started and I watched as couples started kissing and feeling each other up. Every time the barman brought me another drink, I noticed his smile, and I was warming to the idea of taking him home with me. He was small, but he had nice lips and obviously found me attractive. Every scotch had at least an extra shot in it and he kept eyeing me whenever he got the chance. When I saw him lick his lips suggestively I decided it was definitely on. Who says no to a blowjob?

"Jasper?"

I turned on my stool and almost lost my balance from the surprise of finding Edward standing right next to me. The scotch that had been so comforting was now a big fucking impediment.

He looked shocked and concerned. "What are you doing here?" he asked me.

For some reason, I wasn't relieved to see him; I was annoyed. Here I was, happily drinking away and flirting with the barman and _now_ he decides to show up.

"Drinking," I responded, being a bit of a prick. Edward looked hurt and I felt stupid for being rude to him. "Irr... moved here—"

"You're wasted," he interrupted me gruffly. "Come on." He pulled me off the stool and I stumbled along after him as he led me away from the bar.

"Where the fuck are you taking me?"

He stopped abruptly and turned around. "You're not gonna be Alec's bitch tonight. I'm taking you home before you get too blind to know what you're doing." He again grabbed my arm and continued to lead me through the club, despite my slurred attempts to stop him.

Once outside, the fresh air hit me and my head started spinning. He was right—I was wasted. I barely noticed him helping me into a waiting cab, too busy concentrating on trying not to heave.

"Where do you live?"

I groaned in response, so Edward fished around for my wallet. He found my license and told the cabbie where to go. The cab lurched forward and when my stomach held, I let myself relax a little.

The cab ride took twenty minutes. Every now and then I could see Edward watching me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn't look at him directly or talk to him the entire time. He paid the cabbie when we arrived and tried to help me out. I brushed him off, feeling irrationally angry with him over the whole thing.

"Fine." I heard him mutter.

I tried to walk as normally as possible but stumbled on the very first stair. Edward was right behind me and he steadied me by grabbing my waist. As I straightened up, I leaned into his grip a little, enjoying how his hands felt on my body for just a split second before continuing to climb the two flights to reach my apartment.

He followed me the whole way and I thought it was just to make sure I made it without breaking my neck. But then, as I was trying to open my door, he spoke, "Is it alright if I come in, to talk?"

This time I did glance up at him and looked into his eyes. _Those fucking green eyes_. Just above that beautiful cock-sucking mouth.

"Yeah," I said huskily, and was embarrassed by how obviously turned on I sounded. I looked back down and finished unlocking the door, definitely being too rough with the handle.

Edward followed me in and took a seat on the couch after declining my offer for a drink. I headed straight to the kitchen and downed two glasses of water, then poured another one to take with me when I went to join him.

In the brighter lights of my living room, I could really make out his tatts. Something about the style struck me.

"That's Em's work, yeah?" I said while looking at his arms.

"Yeah, it is. Not these though," he replied and gestured to his neck. I could just make out the edges of some design snaking up from his back. "There's a few more, too."

This was better—familiar territory. Tatts was one thing I knew.

"What else you got?"

He only hesitated for a split second before pulling his shirt up over his head. He had buffed up. His abs were way more defined now, and his arms. And his nipples were fucking pierced.

He started telling me about each of the new tatts he'd had done, explaining where and why. All I could see were the ones familiar to me already though. Remembering each time I'd run my hands over them or pressed my lips to them.

Before I thought about it, I launched myself at him, grabbing his face with my hand and kissing him roughly, running my other hand all over his back and his chest and his abs. Those fucking solid abs.

He didn't melt into me like I wanted him too. His lips didn't move and his hands didn't wander. Instead he was pushing me away.

"Jasper... you're drunk," he said against my lips.

I kept trying to kiss him for a few more seconds, but when it became clear he wasn't going to respond, I backed off, noticing how he almost looked angry.

Then the shame hit. He'd rejected me. I'd thrown myself at him and he didn't want me. I was too humiliated to stay sitting next to him, so I stood up and made my way down the hall toward my room.

"You don't have to fucking leave," he called out.

But I did—didn't he understand that? I ran my hands through my hair, yanking on tufts in frustration.

"This is such fucking bullshit," I muttered as I stomped to my room and slammed the door behind me.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The next morning, I woke up with a headache and a hefty dose of remorse. Tentatively, I made my way to the living room, wondering if maybe he stayed the night, but he was nowhere in sight. I sat down on the couch and replayed what I could remember back through my mind, cringing at all the stupid things I'd said and done. I'd been rude and then tried to kiss him. No wonder he didn't want anything to do with me.

I really tried to push those misery-inducing thoughts aside, but they kept coming back to me, making me groan at my idiocy again and again. The worst part was that I really wanted him in that moment, when I was kissing him. There were no reservations, no doubt. He felt so good, all firm and warm. _And those abs_.

My dick was stirring at the memory of running my hands over his defined mounds, so I pulled down my boxers and started stroking myself. I let my thoughts wander back to when Edward used to jerk me off and changed the image in my head so it was the Edward from last night doing it instead. I wanted more though, so I imagined him sucking my cock as I threaded my hands in his hair and pulled him down on me. I came not long after, then just sat there for a while with it all over me.

I went to the bathroom and cleaned up, this time noticing how flushed I looked in the mirror. Jerking off made my hangover feel better but also left me exhausted. I had nothing else to do today so I figured I'd go back to bed and sleep a bit longer, maybe even rub one out again. But I needed water first, so I made my way to the kitchen.

It was there I found the note on the counter, Edward's perfectly neat handwriting staring at me.

_I stopped because I couldn't handle it if you regretted being with me again._

_Call me when we can talk,_

_Edward. 555 3478_

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

I didn't call him straight away. I ate breakfast and showered and stressed about whether I really wanted to put myself through that sort of shit. It was pointless though, of course I was going to fucking call him. I wanted to apologize, but more than that, it was becoming increasingly clear to me that I wanted Edward. At least for a bit.

Sitting at my small table, I fiddled with the note and my cell, while my leg bounced up and down quickly. Finally, I dialed the number that he'd left me and felt my hands clam up as I waited for him to answer.

"Hello."

"Hey, it's me... Jasper," I said unsteadily.

"Hey, you found my note?" He sounded friendlier than I expected.

"Ah, yeah. Um, I... I wanted to apologize, for last night."

"You were drunk. Don't even worry about it."

I exhaled in relief, thankful he wasn't giving me a hard time. "Yeah, well, sorry for being a drunk dick."

"It happens," he said and followed with a chuckle. "So, did you want to catch up? Maybe grab a coffee?"

"Um, yeah," I replied.

"When do you want to meet?"

I took a deep breath. "Now's good," I responded, feeling my heart starting to pound in my chest.

"Do you want to meet me? I'm not far from you and there's a coffee shop about halfway. Do you know Gina's? Little place—next to the drugstore?"

"Yeah, I know it."

"Okay, I'll see you there in about twenty." He made it so easy.

"All right... Bye."

I hung up the phone and sat in a surreal daze for a moment, half smitten, half freaked. What the fuck was I doing?

I grabbed my things and headed out the door.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Edward was already seated at a small table by the time I reached the coffee shop. He smiled at me, gesturing at the coffees in front of him. I headed toward him and started feeling even more nervous, wondering if maybe I should have just had him over to my apartment. Was a public coffee shop really the best place to have this conversation?

But the closer I got to Edward, the less room there was in my head for unnecessary stress. My mind was taking in all the little details about him I'd missed before because it had been too dark and I'd been too drunk. He always looked good, but somehow, the extra years had only made him look better.

"Hi," I said as I pulled out the chair to sit down across from him.

"How'd you pull up this morning?" he asked, an amused glint in his eyes.

"Not great," I admitted. "Feel a bit better now though." Edward passed a coffee to me and I added sugar before taking a sip.

"So, why did you move to Jersey?" he asked, his expression not unfriendly, but definitely serious.

"I wasn't stalking you or anything," I said, rolling my eyes for effect. "I just needed a change. An old friend used to work for a fishing charter company here and said they were always looking for people, so I thought I'd give it a go."

"Okay. So why were you at that bar?" He didn't need to say it—the implication was already loud and clear. What was _I_ doing in a gay bar?

Considering I'd already tried to kiss the guy, I didn't see any point lying. "Sometimes I go to those places."

He looked at me skeptically. "So, you're still not gay, huh?"

"Not really, no." Now I had a reason to feel guilty. If I wasn't gay, why would I try to kiss him? I could see the disappointment on his face, the same as it was all those years ago when I left. He looked like he felt used. "It's not like that, I just... I'm still not real comfortable with this stuff." I exhaled in frustration. Edward didn't push me. He just sat there waiting. "Are you?" I asked, just as curious about his sexuality.

"Gay? Or comfortable?"

"Both... I guess."

Edward sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I'm comfortable. And I'm open about my sexuality."

_What the fuck does that mean?_

"So, you're bi?" I asked, more than a little confused. If he wasn't gay why was _he_ at a gay bar?

"That's probably the easiest way to explain it." He picked up his cup and drank some more. He was wearing a sweater today so I could only see the very tip of the tattoos on his neck. The sweater changed his appearance completely; he looked like he could be some preppy guy in a Calvin Klein ad.

"So, you like chicks, still?" I clarified.

He shrugged. "Sometimes. But it's usually guys." He blushed a little as he stared at his coffee. "How often do you go to those bars?"

It was my turn to look down. "Not often. I went the first time after I broke it off with a girl, probably about three years ago. Then it was a couple of times every year. I just wanted to... see, you know?"

Edward nodded like he understood.

"What happened with your girlfriend?" I asked him.

He tilted his head back and grinned. "Ah... Bella. I was going to break it off. But after I told her about everything she thought we could keep it together if we tried 'other' things." He scoffed at the memory. "It lasted another few months but it never really worked. We still see each other occasionally—just as friends, though."

Well, now I knew what happened with her.

"I guess it's a bit of a coincidence, us running into each other last night. Small world, yeah?" Edward mused while smiling at me.

My expression gave away my guilt.

"What?" he asked

"About that... I actually went there last night looking for you. The night before, I was horny and... well, I'd gone there looking for anyone. But then I walked in and saw you, and freaked the fuck out. So I left."

Edward looked hurt again.

"It's not like that, I just... Fuck." I shook my head in frustration. "It was a shock, that's all. But then I thought about it and realized I did want to see you. Even just to talk..." I trailed off under his intense stare.

"So last night?" he prompted.

"Last night, I was interested in finding you." I left it at that, not really sure of what else I should say and stared at the table.

"But it wasn't just to talk?"

I sighed in frustration. "Fuck, I don't know."

"Jasper, you gotta tell me. I spent years pining after you and now you show up, in a fucking gay bar of all places. You kiss me and storm off when I don't take advantage of you. What is going through your head?"

I looked back up at him and swallowed. Could I really tell him?

"I like you," I said quietly. "And I want you. But then sometimes I wonder if I'd ever be struggling with this if I never met you and I resent you." His face fell. "I'm sorry, alright, but it's true. I don't handle this well like you do—"

"I haven't always handled it well. I just told you I spent months in a relationship I knew wasn't working, just to 'see' if it'd get better. And I did it because I knew that if I could just make it work, life would be so much fucking easier." He paused while he contemplated his coffee. "Eventually, you realize constraining yourself like that isn't easy."

Well, that hit home.

There were times I wish I could just think about him and not feel the guilt. That I could imagine living the way he does without feeling like I would be doing something wrong. Did Edward ever feel like that?

"Whenever I think about... being that way, there's always this feeling that it's wrong. Like I think of what my parents expect from me and how I know I like tits, and... I just can't see how it could be the right thing for me."

He smiled at me, almost like he was proud of what I was saying. "It takes a little adjusting to get used to it, but eventually you get there."

He definitely seemed to be coping all right.

"Edward, do you still like tits?" I asked, interested to see how much he'd had to adjust. I was pretty sure I didn't want to stop liking tits.

He laughed. "Yes, sometimes I do like tits. But for me it's more about the person than the appendage." And then he winked.

The part of my brain that had been panicking about the way I was pursuing Edward calmed down after he said that. I was attracted to him as a person, not just because he was a man. And I wasn't attracted to the girls I dated because they were pissy bitches, not because I stopped liking tits. It made sense.

He seemed to sense my resolution. "Once you open yourself up to it, then you realize there's nothing wrong with feeling like this." As if to punctuate his point he reached across the table and placed his hand on mine. His touch felt nice, and I didn't even care that he was doing it in public. I moved my hand so I was holding his, and he was right—it didn't feel wrong.

He let go of me shortly after, probably not wanting to push me too far, and by that stage my palm was pretty sweaty so I was thankful. We finished our coffees and then Edward walked me back to my apartment, all the while catching up on the last few years. When we got to my place he didn't leave me out the front, but followed me up the stairs. As I climbed the two flights I could feel my heart banging in my chest and knew I was scared of what he wanted. But when we reached my door all he did was ask if he could call me sometime. After I said "sure" he leaned in and quickly kissed me on the cheek before turning and leaving.

In a way I was relieved, 'cause I was no longer sure if my heart was still banging from being scared, or from that tiny little kiss.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Edward called me the next day to ask me to come over to his place on Monday for dinner—takeout, 'cause he said he can't cook for shit. I agreed to go and asked if I should bring some beer. He said 'yes,' but asked that I not drink any before getting there. It was a fair call.

Over the next few days, I thought a lot about what Edward had said and how my life could have been a whole lot fucking easier over the last five years if I hadn't been constantly fighting myself. I wouldn't have wasted so much time trying to make it work with those girls, trying to convince myself that I felt more for them then I did. And I could've avoided the clandestine trips to gay bars and the guilt and shame for using faceless strangers to get the release I'd wanted. Edward's words made a lot more sense than the last five years of my life.

But the thing I thought about the most was Edward. I knew I was interested in him, but was he still interested in me? And if I knew I was interested, why was I scared? It's not like we hadn't done all that stuff already, and I trusted him. I didn't understand why I was reacting this way.

By the time Monday rolled around, I still had no idea why my body and my head couldn't get it together. Edward gave me his address and it was a short walk so I set out on foot. About half way there it started again, my heart banging harder than it normally does. And that's when I finally understood—I was nervous. It wasn't fear at all, well, not fear of Edward. I was scared of how things were going to go, not terrified of letting them happen.

Edward also lived in an apartment, though a much nicer one than mine. I knocked on the door and listened to his footsteps as he approached.

"Hey, Jasper," he greeted as he opened the door with a big friendly grin.

"Hi," I replied.

He stepped aside to let me in and as I went to pass him he again planted a quick kiss on my cheek. I wasn't prepared for it so he kind of got my ear. I smiled apologetically, but then noticed Edward's bright eyes and didn't feel too embarrassed. He closed the door and led me down a long hall to a large living area. There were a couple of black leather couches around a large coffee table topped with boxes of Chinese food. Edward took the beer off me and gestured for me to take a seat.

His couch was really fucking comfortable.

"I didn't know what you'd like so I got a bit of almost everything," he yelled from what I assumed was the kitchen. Then he was back in the room with me, holding out an opened beer for me to take.

"Thanks," I said as he clinked his bottle against mine.

He gave me another of those excited smiles. "Thanks," he replied as he gestured with his beer.

The food looked and smelled delicious so I tucked in, thankful that Edward had ordered so much. We talked when our mouths weren't full of food and I found out that Edward was a pretty busy guy. He worked as a bartender a few nights a week at the club where I first saw him and played guitar in a band whenever they could get gigs. He was also studying to become a counselor, which suited him, I thought.

I told him about the places I'd lived and the reasons why I'd left them. And he understood.

When we'd finished we were both full and relaxed, lounging on his couch and reminiscing about some of the guys we'd worked with.

I guess it started gradually, Edward moved closer to me as he reached for the egg rolls, and then I had to get closer to the noodles. I'd tried not to notice, thinking that if I thought to hard about it, I'd get all nervous again. But then, after we'd finished eating, Edward reached across the small space between us and grabbed my hand, a move so direct that it took me a little by surprise.

"Jasper, do you think you could... would you be interested in seeing me?" he asked nervously.

I thought about everything that had gone through my head over the last few days and remembered that I wanted to be open to this. It's why I was here. So I sucked up my own nerves.

"I'd like to try."

He smiled in relief and then moved himself even closer. I felt like my chest was gonna explode and kind of froze. Then he leaned in kissed me on my lips.

All that time Edward and I spent together at sea had been pretty awkward. It was usually rushed, and in that tiny cabin, it was never comfortable. And for me at least, everything we did was always tinged by my apprehension. Edward hardly ever just kissed me on the lips. And never like this.

This was slow. And on this huge leather couch—it was comfortable. And this time, I was eager.

I kissed him back, moving my lips and tongue against his, getting hard from Edward's staggered breaths against my mouth and my neck. Steadily, I eased him back with pressured kisses so that we were lying on the couch together, making out like teenagers. He was such a great kisser—the best I'd ever had—and that reminded me of how great his mouth felt on my cock. After a minute I couldn't stand it anymore and pressed my hard on against him.

"Fuckkk," he groaned and then reciprocated briefly before pulling his hips away. His kisses stopped, too.

"What's wrong?" I panted, aroused and slightly panicked.

He was getting his own breath under control. "I don't want to rush things," he finally answered.

"You're kidding, right? We have done this before." I reminded him of that by licking him behind the ear the way he liked. This really wasn't the time for taking things slow.

He squirmed a little. "I just don't want you to regret this. If we move too fast then you might freak out."

"I'll regret it more if my dick explodes," I murmured against his neck.

That made him laugh and he kissed me back when I returned my mouth to his. But after a moment, he pulled away again and stared me straight in the eye. "Are you sure?"

Needing to convince him I told him how sure I was, trying to put every ounce of all the feelings I had for Edward into the look I gave him.

He must have seen something in that look that he liked, 'cause he went straight back to making out, only now his lips were turned up in a grin.

That night, Edward and I jerked each other off right there in his lounge room next to the leftover Chinese food.

And I resolved to get one of those easy-clean leather couches.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The next few weeks revolved around work and spending time with Edward. Weekends were usually spent apart; I always had longer day shifts with the charter company and Edward worked late at the bar. Even finding time to be together during the week was difficult, but we managed.

Most of the time, we met just for lunch or a quick drink and we were hardly ever physical with each other. Edward didn't kiss me while we were out in public, but I didn't really mind. I probably wasn't ready for that anyway.

When I was home by myself, I kept thinking. It was a lot easier to be with Edward when I was actually with him. Sitting alone in my apartment, sometimes I'd still wonder if I was doing the right thing. I knew Edward was planning on taking me out as soon as we had the chance. And I knew he was taking me to a bar and that we'd be seen as a couple. I was still trying to psych myself up for it.

It was a Thursday night that we were both finally free with nothing to do the next morning. Edward knocked on my door to pick me up. When I opened it he kissed me hello, unmistakably excited about the night ahead. He was dressed in a tight T-shirt and jeans—nothing too out there—but it showed off his body to full effect. I wondered if I was going to have to worry about other guys hitting on him.

"You ready?" he asked me.

"Yeah, just let me grab my things," I said and turned toward the kitchen. Edward followed me, closing the door behind him. I found my wallet and keys and shoved them into my pockets. Then turned back to find Edward looking like he was going to fucking eat me.

He stepped forward and really kissed me then, running his hands over my back and my ass, pulling my hips into his. His hand snaked down between us and he roughly stroked my cock through my jeans. "I want you," he growled quietly.

I couldn't help it—I pushed into him. Edward was always pretty clear about his intentions when we were fooling around before. He'd get all handsie and shit, trying to tell me what he was going to do. He was making it pretty clear that we were going to be doing more tonight.

His kisses were deep and fucking sexy, like he was starving for me, and that was a complete turn on. My hands went up into his hair and onto his ass, and I pushed him toward the wall, squeezing right up against him.

"We'd better go," he panted against my lips.

"We'll just stay here," I muttered back, barely comprehensible as my mouth was still all over his.

He reached behind me again and gave my ass a good hard squeeze before gently pushing me away.

"Later. Right now, we need to do this." He gave me one last quick kiss before leading me out the door. Fucking cockblocker.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

It was a different club that he was taking me to. We arrived and I was surprised by how busy it was considering it wasn't really late yet. The dance floor was crowded with people, not all of them men, and the loud beat of the music coupled with the lights made the moving bodies hypnotic. Edward held my hand and led me over to the bar where he ordered two beers. Once he had them, he gave me one and then wrapped his free arm around my waist while he surveyed the room.

"Over there," he yelled over the top of the music and gestured to a free table not too far from the dance floor. I nodded and again he took my hand and led me. I gripped on to his and tried not to notice how many of the patrons were checking him out.

We sat down in chairs next to each other, facing the writhing mass of bodies, and he continued to hold my hand under the table. I gave him a smile, letting him know I was okay and then turned back to the dance floor and openly stared.

People—a _lot_ of people—were moving together. Hands were groping and mouths were kissing and bodies were grinding. There were guys and girls, and girls and girls, and guys and guys. I watched them all.

Not one of them looked to have any inhibitions about what they were doing, like they had completely given themselves over to the music and the way their bodies felt. It was like watching soft porn, and my dick was reacting exactly the same way. I put my beer down so I could adjust myself under the table and I saw Edward look at me from the corner of my eye.

He leaned in close to my ear. "They're giving in to their desires. Nothing else matters here." His eyes looked black from the dark lighting. He looked more turned on than I was.

We finished our beers, watching and rubbing our hands together. When we were finished, he pulled me up and toward the dance floor. I wasn't much of a dancer and under any other circumstances he would never get me to go. But right then, I wanted nothing more than to move with Edward like the others were moving with each other.

He took me right into the midst where it was the most crowded and started running his hands up and down my chest, a lot slower than the beat. I did the same with my hands on his back, but also felt his ass. We were getting pressed together by the crowd and eventually, we were just touching in any way would could. Our cheeks were pressed together and I could feel his hot, heavy breathing against my ear.

It was the sound of desire.

I couldn't get close enough to him but that didn't stop me from trying. In my lust-addled brain, I think I understood now why he wanted to bring me here. I needed a place where I could just want him, without having to worry about all the other shit. Here, I was free to want him and felt no reservations about showing it. Everyone in this place was doing exactly the same thing—expressing their desire.

We stayed on the dance floor for over an hour. And when we finally left, we made our way to his car as quickly as possible. It was like we'd just had an hour of the best foreplay imaginable. My whole body was pulsating with how much I wanted him—_really_ wanted him.

He couldn't drive fast enough.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

We crashed through my door, unable to keep our hands off each other long enough get it open properly. While we kissed, I made an effort to kick it shut but wasn't willing to break contact to check if it worked.

I had him up against a wall—the same way we'd always had to make-out when we were at sea—when I realized we didn't have to be like that. I could have him in my bed. And I really wanted him in my bed. He grunted at me when I pulled away but eased up when he realized where I was headed.

We stripped our clothes whilst still maintaining some form of contact. Shirts went first, then shoes, socks, belts. Finally, jeans came off and I groped him through his boxers before pushing him back on to the bed.

We made out for a few more minutes and I kept waiting for Edward to move things forward; that's how it always was before. But he just kept kissing me and grinding against me the same way I was with him. Then I remembered how worried he'd been about pushing me too fast. He was waiting for me to tell him I wanted to move things forward.

I rubbed against him and felt him against my skin and wanted—_really_ wanted—his cock in my mouth. I kissed across his chest, stopping to suck on his piercings, then made my way down his stomach, feeling the muscles tense as he no doubt realized what I was doing. He tried to pull me back up but I swatted his hand away.

"Let me," I grunted, then ran my tongue up his abs. I kissed my way back and then adjusted myself so I was on all fours, staring at his dick in front of me, then I looked up to him. He was flushed and his chest was heaving.

"You don't have to..."

I grinned. "It's not my first." He had just enough time to register the surprise on his face before I took him into my mouth, groaning against him and finally releasing some of the pent up desire I'd been carrying around for the last two hours. Edward stammered a sigh and thrust into me involuntarily.

As I moved, sucking him in and releasing him, the sounds he made got me so freaking hard, I had to reach down and awkwardly stroke myself. I used my tongue to lick him and my lips to squeeze him, trying to find what he liked the most, but that seemed to be everything so I just let myself go, doing what felt right.

And it did feel right. Every moan and grunt that came from him made me want to do more, so I let go of my own dick and instead touched him wherever I could. As my hand trailed up his abs he grabbed it with his own hand and squeezed, letting me feel him losing control.

He was getting closer, his pants shorter and sharper, his hips jolting slightly every time I went down. He started squeezing my hand even harder, tugging to let me know he was coming. I smiled to myself as I gave him everything I had. He gave one last grunt as the last of his control vanished and he came.

I had to remove him to swallow properly but then gave him one last suck before sitting back on my heels. Edward was yet to move and I was pretty fucking impressed with my efforts. I didn't feel dirty or seedy, nothing like the last time I gave head to a guy. This felt right, like I was giving him what we both wanted.

"That was fucking incredible," he muttered and it went straight to my cock. Finally, he opened his eyes and then lifted himself up so he was sitting next to me. He gave me his most loving kiss yet before manoeuvring us around so that he could lay me down beneath him. His lips followed a similar course to the one mine had taken on his body and by the time he reached my cock, I was heaving with desire.

He licked my full length and then proceeded to give me the most mind-blowing head I'd ever received. When he'd finished we fell asleep together in my bed. It was the first time we'd ever spent the whole night in each other's arms.

The last remaining doubt I had that _this_ was what I wanted disappeared that night. Now, I doubted I'd ever want anything else again.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

"Can you make it more masculine? Like, less curvy and shit?"

"What if we go with this one?"

The tattooist showed me another design that looked a lot like a couple of ropes joined with reef knots. It was perfect: symbolic, subtle, and even nautical.

"Yeah, that's the one."

He looked pleased I'd finally made up my mind and set about tracing the design on my arm. I hadn't gotten a new tattoo ever since I left the cargo ship, so I was a bit concerned this one was going to hurt like a motherfucker.

Getting this tattoo was something I'd been considering for a while now, trying to think of the best way to go about it.

I wanted to show him what he meant to me.

At first, I'd considered getting his name somewhere, but that never really sat right with me. It would look out of place, and I was pretty sure I'd be too embarrassed to even show him. So then I'd looked into other ways to express what I felt, something more symbolic, but everything I found was either too clichéd or would make me look like a total pussy.

The knots though... at first they just reminded me of Edward's tattoos, especially the first Celtic one he got while we were at sea. But then I read about the love knot and how it represents the endless bond between two lovers. It was the right kind of thing.

I gritted my teeth against the pain of the needle. It was bearable though, and after a few moments I was able to block it out.

Edward and I had been together for almost a year now, and this was my effort to commemorate that. We hadn't moved in together or anything, but I was pretty sure that wasn't too far away. I'd spent almost every night at his place and we'd been serious for about nine months of that year.

I'd told my mom that I was seeing a guy and she'd pretended to understand, then told me it may be best if we didn't mention it to Dad just yet. It had annoyed me, but not because I was pissed off with my dad; it was because I wanted people to know—I didn't want to hide how I felt about Edward. Mom seemed to think it was just a phase that I was going through and that it'd pass, so why upset Dad in the meantime? Edward had told me I shouldn't fight with her over it, and that in a few years, she'd probably come around. I'd scoffed at the irony of how we'd both be waiting each other out.

The way I felt about Edward was more than I'd felt for anyone before. He has this easy-going nature that I'm attracted to, and he never lets anything be more complicated than it needs to be. He guided me through every bad experience and always made me feel like we were worth it.

This is why I needed to show him.

When the tattooist finished, I looked down at the rope knot around my arm and was struck by the ordinariness of it. It didn't seem like enough to show him how I felt. And would he even get it? A feeling that I'd just done something really stupid came over me.

After the dressing was applied, I carefully pulled on my long-sleeve shirt before heading home. In the back of my mind, I was coming up with excuses for my sudden urge to get inked.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

"Mexican?"

"Nah. Pizza?"

"We had pizza three nights last week." He said it like it was a bad thing. I shrugged my shoulders and turned back to the TV.

"Fine—pizza. But next week I'm hitting You Tube and learning how to cook."

An amused snort escaped me. I'd give him two days before he chucked it in. We'd tried to do the happy couple thing, hanging out and cooking together at the start of our relationship. But there was no denying it—we really couldn't cook for shit.

"You don't think I can do it, do you?" He came up from behind and wrapped his arms around me. I winced from the contact with the fresh tattoo I'd gotten and he noticed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I've just got a sore arm." I tried to shrug out of his embrace. Edward wasn't having that and he ran his hand—gently—over the area and felt the dressing through my shirt.

"What happened? Show me," he said as he started lifting up my sleeve. It briefly occurred to me to feign an injury, but he'd see it eventually, and by then he'd already recognized the dressings for what they were. "You got a new tatt? What'd you get?" He stopped pulling up my sleeve and was instead lifting the hem of my shirt up. I helped him get it off.

"I just felt like getting another rope, so I went in today..." I trailed off.

He carefully unstuck one edge and pulled it back, revealing the still slightly reddened skin around the newly darkened lines. He stared at it for what felt like minutes before he finally reacted.

"Did you mean this... that way?" His eyes held that same excitement he often got around me, but they were cautious, too.

My chest ached a little as I realized I should never have doubted he'd recognize the symbolism. Edward was covered in Celtic tatts.

"Yeah," I said, and braced myself for his reaction.

"Are you sure?" he asked me earnestly.

"I'm sure."

His face broke into an enormous smile and he grabbed on to mine, cradling it in both his hands. "I love you," he said, not a trace of caution left.

I never thought hearing the words from him would be that big a deal. He'd almost said it so many times, always stopping himself before it happened though. Now the words had finally left his lips, I realized he'd just been waiting for me to say it first.

"I love you," I said, trying it on. It wasn't so bad and was even kind of nice, even if I did feel like a bit of a pussy.

He all out grinned now. "Fuck dinner," he said and brought his face to mine, kissing my lips and squeezing my cheeks like he never wanted to let me go.

He led me to the bedroom, unbuttoning his own shirt as we went. By the time we were next to the bed all our other clothes were stripped and strewn throughout the hallway. He lay down first, bringing me down on top of him and we continued kissing.

I hadn't been nervous about sex with Edward since the first time we'd done it as a couple. He'd showed himself to be great lover, so there was never any need to be. But all of a sudden, I realized this was the first time we were going to 'make love' and I felt the nerves stirring.

"It doesn't change anything," he whispered against my ear, as if he could sense what I was thinking.

I made my way down his body, kissing him and then stopping only briefly to take the lube he was passing me. He stared at me with that big grin on his face while I spread the lube around. Who would've known that just saying the words would make him so freaking happy? I slipped the first finger inside him to take the grin off his face and then started giving him head while I prepared him. He was breathing heavily, like it wouldn't take him long, so I stopped sucking on him, but kept moving my fingers, carefully stretching him. When he was ready, I added more lube to my hand and stroked myself while admiring the man laid out before me, his desire and want evident on his face and his beautiful erect cock. I couldn't help myself and took him into my mouth again, bringing him back to grunts before I pulled away and gradually entered him.

I moved slowly to begin with and we stared at each other intensely, sharing the heat of our attraction. Eventually, we both needed more and I let myself go, thrusting as deep as I could go, Edward meeting every single one. We moved together, desperately kissing to try and gain more contact. When we weren't kissing, he was gazing at me like I was his life, and I'm pretty sure I was looking at him the same way. Once I was close, I gave him room to reach between us and he began pumping his cock, the sight of which always made me come. I released into him as he came all over himself, and then I collapsed.

I panted for a few minutes, still awed by the rush of having his eyes looking at me that way. "It does change," I mumbled into his chest. "It's better." With my last bit of energy I pulled myself up and kissed him again.

We lay in each other's arms until we'd recovered enough. Then we showered and Edward carefully cleaned my new tatt for me, even applied the cream. When we'd finished, we ordered pizza and then ate it together on his big comfy leather couch; two men afloat on a sea of reciprocated love.

* * *

**A/N: Ahhh. I hope it wasn't too cheesy.**

**I'm officially whoring myself out for The Fandom Gives Back author auction. I'm not sure if I'll be listed as MySlashyFriend or Frenchbeanz, but once I know, I'll link it on my profile. **

**You'll find more info here as it becomes available: www[DOT]thefandomgivesback[DOT]com/**

**What I'm auctioning off: a single one-shot of at least 4k. Any rating, any pairing, can be vamp or AH. You can also request an outtake, continuation or other POV from any of my stories. So, pretty much anything, yes? I'm easy like that. **

**It's all for a good cause so come along and bid, then make me do your bidding ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: cosmo9 and ArcadianMaggie are two of the loveliest gals in the fandom. Instead of bidding against each other in the FGB auction, they joined forces and bid what they could. I'm constantly floored by the generosity exhibited during FGB, and this is a perfect example of how big-hearted we can be.**

**So, this third chapter is brought to you by ArcadianMaggie and cosmo9. It's EPOV and covers a long stretch of time. If you enjoy it, please send them a PM and say thanks. They're in my fav authors. **

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The music was loud and the vibe was awesome in the club. I was out on the floor, collecting bottles and glasses, smiling at the regulars and loving the atmosphere. I approached the bar and started unloading my haul.

"Goddamn!" Alec, the barman, was staring at the doorway, looking like someone who'd missed out on his favorite pie.

"What's wrong, Alec? Another pretty boy turn you down?"

"I didn't even get a chance! You should've seen him, Edward. Tall, scruffy, blond—and he had a beautiful ass. It's like my dream guy just walked in and out of my life in less than a minute."

I wanted to laugh but Alec had a weird sense of humour—a little too cocky and you didn't always know when he was joking. So instead, I offered him sage and practical advice. "If he walked straight out, then he probably didn't mean to come in here in the first place." He wouldn't be the first guy to come in looking for a beer only to find Chardonnay. "Don't pine after a straight one. It's never worth it."

And hadn't I already learned that? I'd spent long enough yearning for my own tall, scruffy blond, and all I had to show for it was the realization that he just wasn't gay. But I wasn't going to think about that now. It was a good night at work and I wanted it to stay that way.

I smiled at Alec. "Chin up and look cute. The boys aren't here to see you brood."

He smirked at me so I knew he couldn't be too crushed over the disappearance of his "dream guy." And by the time I'd finished stacking the glasses in the dishwasher, he was already eye-fucking a dark loner at the end of the bar.

With an amused sigh, I strolled back out of the bar, tray in hand, and tried to recapture some of my earlier good mood.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

My class finished and I took my time packing up my books. I really didn't feel like sitting at home and wallowing again. Thinking about Jasper yesterday at work had brought back all the usual feelings. In retrospect, I knew I'd kind of taken advantage of him, and there was a lot of guilt that kept resurfacing every time I thought about it. Last night had been particularly rough, though, as I'd been remembering the good times as well.

I didn't want to put myself through that again, so I headed home for a quick shower. My class had been a late one but it was still reasonably early by the time I arrived at the club. I walked in the door and caught the attention of Alec behind the bar. He nodded at me and then quirked his head at a figure hunched over the stool in front of him. Tall, shaggy, and blond—it could only be his "dream guy" from the night before. I smiled encouragingly until I saw the size of the drink he was pouring for him.

Alec wasn't always... honorable in the way he picked up. Sometimes he'd get guys a little too drunk; sometimes he'd get them wasted. He also seemed to go for the less experienced guys, and I often wondered if he was driven by some kind of inferiority complex. Height was not one of his advantages.

I tried to frown at Alec but he was ignoring me now, tending to something under the counter. As much as I would've liked to just walk away and not get involved, I just couldn't stomach when people were used like that. Plus, the guy kind of reminded me of Jasper, and after all the thinking I'd done last night about him, I felt like I _had_ to say something. So I approached the guy at the bar, thinking I'd order a drink and maybe be able to give him a hint without pissing Alec off too much.

I didn't like the look of his slumped posture. He was well on his way to being too inebriated and beyond the understanding of a simple warning. I reached the bar and Alec stood up, drawing the attention of his dream guy. He looked up from his drink, his hair falling away and revealing his face.

Recognition gripped me in the gut. "Jasper?"

He turned around, almost falling over in the process. His limbs were hanging from his lax body and there was something so pitiful about the sight. He looked awful, an empty shell of the man I'd known.

I asked him what he was doing there and he slurred his cold responses. My first instinct was to be hurt, but I had enough sense to not give into that. He was just drunk.

Alec was hovering behind the bar, annoyed but waiting to see how things played out. He'd been priming Jasper tonight. The thought of it was sickening and I had to get Jasper away from there. So I hauled him up off the stool and outside despite his many attempts to stop me.

Once we were outside, I didn't know what to do. There was no way I was bringing him back to my place—not in the condition he was in—but I couldn't just leave him there on the sidewalk. So I pushed him into a waiting cab, found his wallet, and took him home.

The cab ride was tense. I was kind of furious with him and thoughts kept tumbling through my mind, getting me increasingly riled up. He was a pathetic mess. He was in _my_ town, in _my_ bar. Even the old grudge that he'd left me on that fucking ship was resurrected. Maybe I was just angry at him for everything.

I was polite to the cabbie though, and thanked him for taking Jasper even when he was a vomit risk.

"Look after your friend, yeah," he added before I hopped out.

His words left me feeling guilty. Jasper was obviously messed up, and all I could think about was how he was pissing me off. I pushed my irritation aside and tried to do the right thing. I helped him up the stairs and tried very hard not to let my old feelings rise up. It wasn't too hard, because other ideas were occurring to me.

Jasper was at _my_ bar where _I_ worked. Maybe this was his big call for help. Maybe he'd somehow tracked me down and was looking for a friend tonight.

When we reached his door, he looked even worse. His eyes were sad and his face was sallow and he was angry, and I realized...

It was exactly the same way I'd looked... five years ago. Back when I was hurt and lost, sad and confused.

I invited myself in. He needed to talk to someone before he headed down the same destructive path I'd trodden. There were people out there who took advantage of the confusion—people like Alec. If I could save Jasper the pain and embarrassment I'd gone through, I would.

And maybe I'd finally get a little closure. I'd never really gotten over my feelings for Jazz. I felt so much for him, but I'd also pushed him to do things he wasn't comfortable with, and I had no doubt his hindsight was just as good as mine. I was sure we both regretted what happened, though probably for very different reasons.

He let me in and we talked, but before I could ask him any of the questions that were buzzing around my brain, he was at me, kissing me sloppily and rushing his hands over my chest. It wasn't right. I'd come in to help and I'd be damned if I was going to take advantage of him.

He didn't see it that way though. His door slammed and the noise echoed in his tiny cement-walled apartment. I was left alone, sitting on his couch, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

Here I thought Jasper needed help, but what if he was already past that point? What if he was out and had genuinely just hit on me? My whole impression rearranged itself and suddenly, there were a lot more possibilities. And a _lot _more questions.

I left him a note.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

It's funny how things turn out sometimes. I would never have imagined that one day, I'd have Jasper back in my life. But that's exactly what I had. He was with me—_wanted_ to be with me—and had been for about four months now. In my eyes, it was serious, but I wasn't going to fuck things up again by assuming he felt the same. This time, I wasn't pushing for anything.

It wasn't too difficult as I was pretty preoccupied most of the time. I had class during the day, worked four nights a week at the club and occasionally still made it to a gig. And Jasper worked as well, odd days and hours, depending on the charter.

This week, we both had Wednesday night free, so we'd planned to spend it together. I'd wanted to go out—to take the pressure off a little, so we'd gone to dinner and were now headed to the club for a few beers.

We walked in the door and Alec grimaced, knowing full well I could see him. I still wasn't sure if he was truly jealous or not. I knew he'd wanted Jasper, but I also knew Alec liked to whine, so he may have just been doing that.

Jasper took a seat next to Demetri—one of our older regulars. He was in almost every night but always home and in bed before the lights started up. He was nice, without being too nice.

I pulled up a stool and sat next to Jasper, staring in Alec's direction and waiting for him to come over.

He did, and he let his eyes wander over Jasper before looking at me and definitely not smiling. "I feel like I shouldn't even serve you." Again, it was hard to know if he was being serious.

"That's fine," I responded, then trying to make everything a bit lighter, added, "But at least get Jasper a drink."

Alec smiled brazenly at Jasper, causing him to blush. "What can I get for you?"

Jasper glanced at me, appealing for my help, but I just nodded, letting him know he could handle it. He cocked his head and stared Alec in the eyes. "Two beers, thanks," he replied. I grinned.

Alec rolled his eyes before walking over to the fridge and pulling out two bottles. He opened them, setting them both down in front of Jasper.

Demetri watched the exchange quietly, a small grin on his face. "Alec," he said in a condescending tone, "you really shouldn't be so bitter."

Alec grabbed Demetri's empty glass and poured him another, then pushed the whiskey across the bar. "Well, I'm not gonna pretend I'm happy for them." He turned to Jasper and smirked, an wicked glint to his expression. "When you feel ready to switch it up, call me." He winked and Jasper choked on his drink.

"I'm sure we can manage," I responded dryly as I reached for the other beet. Alec gave me a smarmy smile, drawing his chin in as he tucked his bar towel into his back pocket. It swung back and forth as he walked away to serve a young guy who'd just walked up.

"I'm sorry," I apologized to Jasper. "Alec is..."

Demetri jumped in. "An asshole. He's kind of a cunt, too. Don't listen to anything he says." I smiled gratefully at him, letting him know his input was welcome. Demetri kept going. "Everyone here has been played by him, so it's not like you're alone."

Jasper mulled his words over while he drank from his beer. After a moment, he turned to me and raised his eyebrows. "Everyone?"

Inwardly, I groaned. Demetri piped up. "Eddie went home with Alec the first time they met. Took him whole minutes to work his magic."

I glared at Demetri while Jasper glared at me, which pissed me off. "Hey, before you get mad, remember where you were going that night I first dragged your drunk-ass home."

He shrugged and drank some more. Demetri wasn't oblivious to having just put his foot in it. "Point is—he uses people. He'll say anything to get what he wants, whether that's sweet-talking or planting some seeds to make you uncertain. Ignore him. And don't be too pissed at Eddie, he was still finding his way back then."

I drank deeply, knowing this was all just going to lead to more questions later. Instead of hanging out and relaxing, we were teetering on the edge of an argument. Even though I knew booze wasn't going to help, I still threw back the rest of my drink and signaled to Alec that I wanted another.

He strolled toward us, towel whipping around his legs. I knew what Alec was like. No one really liked him, but we all sort of felt compelled by pity not to hate him. Yes, he was a bit of a bastard who used underhanded methods to get what he wanted, but I always suspected it was driven by how pathetically desperate he was.

Next to me, Jasper cleared his throat. "I think I just want to go." I glanced at him and saw him eyeing Alec, his face clear of any softness.

"If that's what you want."

He nodded and began standing up. I turned to Alec. "Don't worry about the drink. We're just gonna head off."

"Fine," he said with annoyance. Demetri scoffed.

I pulled out some bills and left them on the bar. "Catch you later," I said to both of them as I pushed my stool in. Jasper was already on his way and I went to follow, but Demetri grabbed my arm.

"Sorry," he said quietly, genuinely. I gave him a resigned smile. It wasn't really his fault; I should have already talked to Jasper about these things.

"Don't worry about it," I said. "He'll come around." Demetri nodded and returned to his whiskey and I headed out the door.

Outside, I found Jasper standing with his hands in his pockets, staring up into the cloud-covered moonlight.

"You want to get a cab or walk?" I asked.

"Walk," he muttered. He wasn't looking me in the eye and I was starting to worry. I wasn't sure what he was upset about. I mean, I knew it was about Alec, but I wasn't sure which part had put him in this mood.

I was familiar enough with counseling one-oh-one to know not to make assumptions, though. "You wanna talk about it?"

He paused for a moment before continuing to walk. "I don't know..." His voice was full of stifled frustration, his jaw set in a way that made me think he was grinding his teeth. I didn't push, just waited until he was ready.

Two blocks into our trek home, he finally spoke. "I guess I always pictured you being this... put together? You just seem so... not messed up about this stuff, and then to hear that you slept with _him._.. Why would you do that?"

I waited for a bit, making sure he was finished. "You know I haven't always handled this well; I've already told you about Bella." I paused. "After we split up, I struggled. I hadn't really been alone before, and it was a whole new life I was discovering. I started going to a few clubs and... I made some poor decisions. One of them was Alec."

Jasper winced when I said it. I hated disappointing him like this.

"Were there many... Alecs?"

"A few." I didn't want him to think the worst of me though, so I quickly added, "I haven't been like that for years."

He nodded and seemed relieved. "I don't even know why this is getting to me so much. Like you said, I almost went home with the guy. I just... I hate the thought of him having touched you."

I laughed because it was a familiar sentiment. "I guess you can understand why I was so eager to keep you away from him. It would have killed me if he'd suckered you like he did me."

Finally, he smiled. It was just a quirk at the corner of his mouth, but it was something. We walked in silence for another block.

"Have you ever... switched?" he asked suddenly, almost sounding casual about it. But I could see the way he was chewing the inside of his mouth, so I knew he was uneasy.

I didn't want to lie to him, but I was tempted. Having just overcome one hurdle from my past, I wasn't keen to rush into another one. Even so, I answered him honestly. "Yes."

He nodded as though it was the response he was expecting. "Did you enjoy it?"

I wanted to say something sarcastic but knew he wouldn't appreciate humor at this point so I reined it in. "Yes."

Surprised, he looked at me. His expression changed and his brows pulled together, confused. "Is that something you'd want to do? With me?"

Now it was my turn to be surprised. "The way we are... that's my preference. But that's not to say we couldn't..." I stopped. I'd promised myself I wouldn't push him to do things this time, and that included making suggestions.

He was quiet—too quiet. We walked the rest of the way home like that.

By the time we were inside my apartment, I was spent. It was a fair walk and we were full of good food and drink. The strained conversation was just the kicker.

"I think I'm gonna head straight to bed," I told Jasper. He looked just as exhausted as me as he pulled his boots off and left them by the door. I walked ahead of him to the bedroom and stripped down to my briefs and pulled the covers down. Jasper came in and helped me, then we brushed our teeth together. It was almost grossly domestic.

I lay down on my side and he did the same. There was a huge gap between us though. Normally, I was the cuddler, the one who crossed the invisible line and wrapped my body around his because I couldn't bear being that far away. But tonight, I didn't think he was in the mood, so I stayed put.

Jasper put both hands behind his head and asked me, "What's it like?"

It took me a second to realize what he was referring to but when it did, I smiled. "It feels good. Like, really good. Well, not straight away, but you know that." I blushed a little.

"Can we try?"

Glancing over at him, I noticed he looked curious. This wasn't driven by libido or need; he just wanted to try it out. But it would be infinitely better for him and me if there was a bit of both.

I moved across in the bed and laid my arm across him to draw him closer, then kissed him lightly on the lips. "We can try." I kissed him harder and then moved my mouth to his neck and his ear. My hand inched lower over his stomach and I could feel how tense he was. And unexcited.

I ducked under the covers and put his soft cock in my mouth, sucking until he grew. I felt his balls and then slowly moved my hand further back and lightly traced it back and forth. He liked that. A lot. His hips were moving and I waited a moment before I pulled away, tossing the covers off us.

He was horny now, his chest heaving and his cock straining toward me. "I'm just grabbing some lube," I offered as an excuse for stopping. As quickly as I could, I had him back in my mouth, working him back to the point of total distraction.

My fingers returned to his ass, but this time I began to _really_ feel him. I pressed in and halted, continuing to suck. Once he relaxed, I pushed until I was all the way and began to slightly move at the same pace as I sucked him.

"Holy shit..."

I stopped sucking but kept my finger inside him. "You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah." He caught his breath.

"Does this feel good?"

He nodded and looked even more needy. I added more lube and slowly, another finger. He winced and tightened up, so I grabbed his dick and stroked him. "Relax, okay."

Jasper closed his eyes and laid his head back. He was spread in front of me, his cock dark with arousal. My own dick was close to bursting at this point and I was kind of gently humping the bed to keep my sanity.

I couldn't really add a third finger, not without making him too uncomfortable, so I worked on stretching him. There's only so much I could do though.

"You ready?" I asked.

"Yeah." His eyes were hooded and his dick was hard and so was mine as I smothered it in lube. Gently, I pushed just the tip in and waited.

Jasper was stoic. He didn't say a word but his body clenched up. Again, when I felt him relax, I pushed a little more, and then more, until I was all the way in.

I didn't move. His eyes were squeezed shut and his brow furrowed. Pain.

Through a strained breath, I said. "We don't have to do this." It was the opposite of what I really wanted. I was in his ass; I just wanted to fuck it. But I wouldn't if he didn't want me to.

He let out a shaky breath and shook his head ever so slightly. "No, it's... it's getting better."

Nodding, I tried not to look as eager as I was. Jasper and I'd had a lot of sex, but this was something different. I'd always thought he'd need to be in control for this relationship to work for him. And I understood that, which is why this wasn't something I ever considered we'd be doing.

I very gently moved out a bit, and although he tensed, he was still mostly relaxed. So I moved again, feeling his body tight all around, and went a bit further. Soon, he loosened up and while I missed the tension, the greater freedom was worth it. I groaned as I began thrusting softly.

He chuckled. "Good, huh?"

I bit my lip and smirked at him as I moved again. "It's been a while."

Jasper moved up to meet me so he must've been past the pain. I angled up where I knew it felt best.

"Jesus," he murmured and I couldn't help but smile.

I added even more lube and when I went back in, it felt even better. I was able to move without fear of hurting him and I picked up the pace, and added more force.

"It's hot seeing you like this," he said in between pants.

It was such a reversal of our roles. I loved seeing Jasper breathless and sweating above me, feeling him inside me while I squeezed his body between my thighs. Now it was me in that position, and he was enjoying it too. Trying to hold off my orgasm, I slowed my movements and leaned down to kiss him, then reached down and felt him.

He groaned into my mouth and took his dick from me. "Keep going," he said.

I placed my hands either side of his chest to give him room and started moving again, feeling everything pulling and needing release. Jasper clenched around me as he stroked, mimicking what I do for him. He was even tighter and it was just too much. I threw my head back as I came, my body thrusting of its own accord. Jasper wanked harder and faster and I stayed inside him until he was finished. His face was flushed but his eyes were clear and he looked in awe.

I lowered myself, pressing my body against him and his release, and kissed him roughly. I loved Jasper, had loved him for years, but I was a goner now. He now held my heart in his hands, and it was his to do with as he pleased.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Jasper was different after that night. He was more relaxed, easier going. It reminded me of what I was like after the first time I had sex as a teenager. I walked around feeling a power I didn't have before, all self-satisfied and a little smug. That's what Jasper was like now, and it scared me.

He didn't do it when it was just us together, only when we were out. At the club, he'd hold his head a little higher and he'd make eye contact with... everyone. I tried to act like I didn't notice, and honestly, I didn't think the way he was behaving was on purpose. When we'd get home from the club, he'd blow me better than he ever had before, intensely and with confidence, and it wasn't until the next morning that I'd remember and begin to worry.

I worried because after I had sex the first time and felt that sense of importance, I just wanted to do it again and again; in different ways and with new people, as much as I could. Jasper was comfortable in his skin now, so did that mean he'd want to be with other people? I knew he wouldn't want to hurt me, but needs are rarely rational.

This went on for about a month—Jasper standing straighter and me feeling insufficient. Then slowly, his confidence seemed to fade, his certainty replaced with a kind of vagueness. This was worse in a way, because something had to make him change, and I was terrified of what it was. But at the same time, I was kind of understanding. By this point, I'd kind of resigned myself to the idea that Jasper would cheat on me. I knew what the clientele at the club were like and just how many blowjobs were given in dark corners. It seemed inevitable that one day, Jasper would branch out—just like I had.

Then one night, we were both home and I could just sense something was wrong. _This is it, _I thought to myself. He was going to tell me about whatever it was that had left him so hesitant.

Thinking a drink might be a good idea, I asked him, "Do you want to go out tonight?"

He didn't even meet my eyes, just kept staring at the TV. "Nah, I just wanna stay in." His face was pale and he looked a little ill, and I changed my mind. He wasn't going to say anything.

I had a choice. I could ignore my gut and continue on in blissful ignorance, or I could question him and quite possibly learn things I didn't want to know. Internally, I debated what to do. I loved Jasper and I was shit scared of getting hurt. No one had ever meant this much to me before and I was terrified of losing him. On the other hand, if there was something wrong, I needed to try and fix it. If I could stop him from outgrowing me, I had to.

That decided, I went and sat beside him on the couch, sinking into the soft leather. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

He glanced at me and looked nervous, but that could have been my imagination. "Nothing's wrong. I just don't feel like going out."

I swallowed. This was the point where I had to tread carefully. Did he really want to stay home, or was there perhaps someone he wanted to avoid? Someone he'd done something with? My chest ached but I did my best to ignore it.

"Is there... someone else?"

He looked at me in shock. "What? No! Why would you even think that?" He was annoyed and glaring at me. "Fuck," he added with an exasperated groan.

He wasn't lying; this was honest Jasper. I felt bad for insinuating he'd done something wrong but then I thought better of it. I had reason to assume. "You're different now," I said. Ever since..." I trailed off, my thoughts failing me. What could I say? That me fucking him up the ass had somehow changed everything. "I don't know," I finished lamely. I couldn't verbalise what my instincts were telling me. Every thought I had just sounded whiny and unfounded.

Jasper shook his head. "I've just had some stuff on my mind."

I wanted to scream at him to tell me, to let me know what he was thinking. Was he going to leave me? _It wouldn't be the first time_, I thought and then wanted to slap myself. Dredging up our old grudges would not help matters.

Instead, I gently tugged on his shirt so he'd look at me, and I showed him my concern and fear and love with my eyes. "Please tell me if there's anything wrong," I asked him.

He looked slightly pained and I wished he'd just say whatever it was, but I knew him better than that. So I gave him his space and disappeared into the study where I picked up my old Gibson acoustic and distracted myself with sounds borne of other people's pain.

Jasper came to bed late that night. I hadn't slept—was too strung out on nerves. He lingered in the doorway of my bedroom, looking uncertain as to whether he was going to join me.

"Hey," I said. "Come to bed."

He walked in the room and I smelled beer and was disappointed to think he'd gotten drunk over what had happened.

He plonked down on the bed beside me. "I'm sorry," he said, without any trace of a slur. I was relieved.

"It's okay."

He rubbed his hands together, staring at them intently. "I should have talked to you first." My heart sank in my chest and I almost wanted to stop him from saying more. Before I could move the lump from my throat to tell him though, he was talking again. "It's just... I called my mom today."

"Oh," I said, while I cursed on the inside. No wonder he was so fucking distracted. Here I was thinking the worst when he hadn't done anything wrong. I was a stupid, self-absorbed idiot for doubting him. "I guess I don't need to ask how it went." I reached across the space between us and placed my hand on his thigh.

He scoffed. "It wasn't really that bad, I guess."

I sat up in bed to show he had all my attention. "What did she say?"

His hands ground at his forehead before he spoke. "At first she was just happy that I'd called and she talked my ear off for a bit. And then she asked if I was getting back together with Alice—you know the girl I was seeing years ago." I nodded and he continued. "Mom's always loved her—thought we were perfect together." He paused for a bit. "I said I was seeing someone. And then I told her it was you and she just went all quiet..." I moved closer to him because this was the hard part. "She just brushed it off, thinks it's just a phase I'm going through."

"Hey, she'll come around eventually. At least she talked to you, right?"

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, maybe keeping himself together. "She told me not to say anything around Dad, and that's the bit that's really pissing me off. It's like, I've only just really come to terms with all this, and this is just a giant fucking reminder of how nothing with us is ever fucking easy."

His face was scrunched up now and he was definitely gritting back his emotions. He was having a bad day—something I'd had plenty of before. They're the days when you wonder if the effort is worth it and you ask stupid rhetorical questions about why life is so unfair. There's no straightforward solution, no way to make the path easier to travel. The only thing that gets you through is the belief you're doing the right thing for yourself.

But it helps knowing others have been through it, too.

I climbed out of bed and pulled him up with my hand. "Come on," I said. "I've got a bottle of whiskey with our names on it."

We sat up until the early hours of the morning, talking and sharing. When we finally went to sleep, it was with a "fuck everyone else" attitude and smiles on our faces. It was the first night I felt like we were friends again.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

After that night with the whiskey, we were great. I quit the band because music didn't seem as important anymore, not when it was just stealing time away from me and Jasper. Summer had started and classes were finished. I swapped night shifts for days at the club, because I no longer wanted to stay out all night. I had Jasper in my bed, and that was far more enticing than any offers I was getting at work.

Being together was easier now than it had ever been. We'd settled into our life as though it were preordained, like fate or something. I was used to his idiosyncrasies and he was (hopefully) used to mine. And I was in love with him.

Even if I was too chicken shit to say it.

Well, that wasn't really true. I wanted to say it, but things between us were perfect, and who messes with perfect? I'd made a promise that I'd never push him again, and saying something like that was just begging for a response. He was never _that_ kind of guy, so he'd feel uncomfortable and only say it back for my sake. I didn't want that. And he knew anyway. He felt it whenever we were together. He saw it whenever I looked at him. He heard it when I told him about my day.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit there was a tiny part of me that wondered how he felt. But I whipped that tiny piece of me into submission and locked it away where it couldn't keep me up at night. This was the happiest I'd ever been in my life, and nothing was going to ruin it.

Our one year "anniversary" was approaching and I was planning on asking Jasper if he just wanted to officially move all his shit into my—_our_—apartment. He lived here anyway, so it wasn't that big a deal. It was just waiting for one of us to make it official.

He was sitting on the couch, pretending to watch TV. He looked too uptight to really be watching it; there was something he was thinking about.

"What do you feel like for dinner?" I asked. He didn't seem to hear me, so instead I just yelled out "Mexican?"

He insisted on pizza, just like I knew he would. He still looked tense but I wasn't worried. Over dinner, I was going to ask him to move in with me, and then distract him with head, again and again. My mood was playful, and I wrapped my arms around him, but then he flinched. _What the fuck?_

"What's wrong?" I asked, feeling panic seeping in. That tiny piece of doubt was shedding its chains and raising its insecure head.

"Nothing. I've just got a sore arm." He shrugged away from me which only made me worry more. I felt for the "sore arm" and was surprised when I really did feel something.

Concern quickly replaced panic and I was trying to force his top off, my mind scrolling through the number of ways he could have been hurt. But then I saw the dressing running all the way around his arm and... All this over a new tatt? Why wouldn't he just tell me?

Carefully, I unstuck one end and unfurled the gauze from his arm, revealing two ropes intertwined and knotted together. The black outline was stark against the pink skin surrounding it and seemed to accent the design. It was similar to the ropes the crew would get tattooed on their arms when we were at sea, but the knot set it apart. It had no beginning or end, entwining the two lines together—the eternal union of two people. Love.

I stared for a full minute, not wanting to get my hopes up.

"Do you mean this... that way?" I asked, because this was Jasper, and he wasn't _that _kind of guy.

He swallowed and nodded as he said, "Yeah."

I felt the word through every part of my body, excitement and fear because Jasper loved me. He meant it. And even when I checked, he still meant it.

And I finally got the balls to say it, too.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The next morning was bliss. I called in sick to work because Jasper had the day off and I just wanted to lie around with him all day. I woke him up with the blow job I'd planned to give him the night before, and he swore and came and reciprocated.

I made us coffee and brought it back to the room and sat our mugs on the bedside table.

"So... there was something I was going to ask you last night, but I was a little distracted," I began smiling sneakily. I wasn't nervous about his response at all. Last night told me he felt exactly the same way about us as I did.

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking it was about time you let your lease go and move in here."

He smiled back. "I've been thinking the same thing." He reached for his coffee and drank some, licking his lips after. "You sure you want me living here? I can be a bit of a pig."

"I know, and I'm still sure."

"Then I'd _love_ to." He emphasized the word and I knew he was sort of making fun of me, but I was too happy to care.

"I'll book a truck and we can move you on Sunday if you want."

"Sounds like a plan."

Now that the talking was over and done with, I grabbed my own coffee and lay down beside him, propping my back up against the headboard. His tattoo still looked fresh but no longer red, and I lightly traced it with my hand.

"I wish I had something to show for you," I murmured wistfully.

"You just asked me to move in with you; I think that's a pretty clear indication," Jasper replied, smirking at me.

"That's not what I mean... I meant a tattoo. Something to remind me of you."

He rolled toward me and propped himself up on his elbow. "You should get 'Jasper's' tattooed on your dick." He tried to look serious but his face cracked.

"Fuck you," I said, grinning despite myself. I tossed a pillow at him for not being serious and spilled coffee on myself in the process.

"Sorry," he apologized, looking contrite. "Look, you have enough ink to last a lifetime. This was my pussy way of saying something I couldn't figure out any other way to say. You don't need to do that. I'd prefer it if you didn't."

I nodded, understanding where he was coming from. I still wanted something though, and I was determined to think of the perfect symbol. I needed something that meant strength, unity and love. Something heartfelt and not tacky.

Jasper started talking again. "One of the old captains I used to work with would always tell these stories about guys he knew who'd lost fingers working at sea." I quirked my eyebrow at him because this was one random fucking story, and I was busy trying to think about something that mattered.

He saw the look and huffed in annoyance. "Just hear me out, okay?"

"Okay..."

"So, this captain... he said the sailors lost their fingers because ropes would get caught on their wedding ring and it would rip it clean off their hand." I screwed my nose up and sipped at my coffee. "This guy's wife didn't believe that he wouldn't wear his wedding ring for safety reasons—she thought he was pretending he wasn't married or something. So he went and got a wedding band tattooed on his ring finger to keep her happy." Jasper stopped talking and it took a few seconds for his words to sink in. I met his eyes, wondering if he was really suggesting what I thought he was suggesting.

"Maybe one day," he began, and then had to clear his throat. "Maybe one day we could do that."

I felt the excitement build up in my chest but I refused to act like a fucking girl in front of him. "Maybe," I agreed, wearing the worst attempt to conceal a smile ever.

He laughed at my expression. "Besides, it's like the only place on your body where there's any room for new ink."

I elbowed him and spilt more coffee, but I didn't care. I put the mug down and took my shirt off and then kissed the shit out of him.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

I squirmed, because, fuck... it was really fucking sensitive. My face scrunched up and I tried like hell to think of anything except what was going on.

"You're such a pussy sometimes. You know that right?"

"Yeah, just wait until it's your turn," I whispered between gritted teeth. The needle was just at the crease between the base of my finger and the next, and I was almost thankful for the pain. It was the only thing keeping it from tickling.

He casually flicked through another folder of stencils. "Nah, I'm gonna skip outta here before my turn." He winked to let me know he was joking, but it still freaked me out a bit. This wasn't just exchanging rings—it was ink. Permanent.

"Don't even joke about it," I muttered. At least his comments had distracted me for a bit. Emmett was nearly finished. Just a bit more fill to go.

"You bolt now, Jazz, and I'll hunt you down," Emmett said as he worked, not showing the slightest change in expression.

Jasper laughed but didn't say anything else. He'd spent the whole time poking around the parlour, checking out the designs on the wall, looking completely at home. It felt that way, too. Walking into Emmett's shop was like stepping back into the mess all those years ago. There was something about the place, something familiar, and I suspected it was helping Jasper feel at ease.

"Relax, Em. I'm not going anywhere." Jasper came to stand beside me and shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly earnest.

Emmett came ashore years ago but he'd only just gotten enough capital together to open his own shop. He was only a short drive away in the lake area of New York State, and we'd visited him a few times in the last six months or so.

Emmett finished and looked over my finger one last time with a trained eye. Carefully, he wrapped a dressing around it and taped it down, then smiled at me before looking expectantly at Jasper.

"All right, Jazz. Your turn."

I stood up from the stool and tried to smile reassuringly at Jasper. He was still kind of grimacing, being oversensitive to Emmett's comment, so I leaned in and kissed him, trying to be tender and loving and supportive.

"That's enough of that."

My lips turned up and I reluctantly pulled away from Jasper. He was smiling as well, though, so I'd sort of achieved my goal. When he sat down, his expression turned stern, and he splayed his hand on the table, practically daring Emmett to question how committed he was.

Emmett smirked as he picked up his pen, amused by something. As he began to stencil the simple band around Jasper's ring-finger, I realized what it was.

Jasper was clenching his hand, his bones straining against the skin. His face was drawn in concentration—brow furrowed, lips pursed.

He wanted to squirm.

Emmett appeared to be taking great pleasure in Jasper's discomfort, and I wondered if he wasn't using a sharper pen than he'd used on me. My face broke into a grin and he must have caught it, because he was looking up next, smiling with me.

"For fuck's sake," Jasper swore when he saw our exchange. He pulled his hand back from Emmett's grip and shook it. "You were doing that on purpose," he said.

Emmett's deep laugh bellowed through the room. "Had to teach you a lesson. Eddie's no pussy."

After a few more moments, Jasper grudgingly laid his hand back on the table and kept a close eye on Emmett as he resumed his task. Jasper wasn't really aware of how Emmett had taken a protective, almost big-brother role in our friendship. Most of it had developed after he'd disembarked.

Emmett changed the needle and started it up, and I stepped away to give them some space. I made my way over to the folders and began flipping the pages. Tattoos didn't really hold the same appeal as they once had. For starters, I didn't have a whole lot of skin left that wasn't already inked. And I guess the other part of it was that I just didn't have much I needed to express anymore. Life felt complete.

But then I turned a page and a whole new world was opened up to me.

"I didn't think you could really get these," I murmured, amazed.

"What's that?" Emmett asked over the faint buzzing.

I stared at the snake design that was entwined around a stiff, hard cock. The dark green body of the serpent was wrapped along the shaft with its head just below the ridge. A fine forked tongue sneaked toward the tip.

"Penis tatts," I replied almost absently. The picture was... kinda arousing.

"Fucking what?" Jasper spluttered. His head jerked in my direction, which earned him a curse from Emmett.

"Stay. The. Fuck. Still."

I'd barely noticed what they were doing, too busy wondering about how you'd go about it. How exactly would it be done? Hard or soft? How much would it hurt? And how the fuck could people ever let a needle get that close to their dick? I shut the folder quickly and made my way back over to the guys, still a little stunned.

Jasper was looking at me questioningly and I shook my head. Yeah, there was no way we were doing that.

Finally, Em was finished and Jasper held up his hand, showing me how it looked.

"Married man now, huh, Jazz," Emmett said. "Never thought I'd be playing the role of a fucking priest."

I laughed loudly and gratefully hugged Emmett. It wasn't marriage, and it would probably be a long time until we'd be able to do that, but it was just as meaningful to me.

Emmett wouldn't take any money, instead just subjecting us to a few bad jokes about how he shouldn't have to explain to us how to care for our new ink. We left his parlour a bit sore but lighter in a way.

"Em seems pretty happy," Jasper observed.

"I think he's mellowed a lot since he left the ship. Rosalie's a good woman and she looks after him, and he doesn't have to cook anymore."

Jasper laughed and we continued to walk in silence for a bit. He glanced at me when we stopped at an intersection. "So... about those tatts..."

I grinned, remembering his face when I first mentioned them. "There were some really nice ones."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Some nice tattoos, too," I teased.

He smiled, but there was a mischievious edge to it. "So... when are you gonna get it done?"

I shook my head, laughing. "Not a chance."

"Fair enough," he conceded, then grabbed my hand and started linking his fingers through mine. I pulled my hand away though, because his tatt was still raw and I didn't want to hurt him.

"I just want to hold your fucking hand," he said.

I smiled as I remembered back to when that was too much for him, then threaded our hands together proudly.

"Me, too."

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

**A/N: Thank you for reading and for the constant support this story seems to get. Love to mopstyle and ArcadianMaggie for the beta bsns, and to allysue08 and cosmo9 for prereading.**

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